Prize of Victory 1,5
by Nova Alexandria
Summary: A collection of stories that take place throughout the POV timeline.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to what I call POV 1.5, a collection of chapters that take place throughout the Prize of Victory timeline. Since they are just little snippets captured here and there, there will be no set update schedule for them. The first set of chapters cover each of the main Arrancar plus Aizen on the their day of Victory. After that, it will be whatever comes to mind as I would like to work in some scenes I had in my head that just never made it in due to flow or perhaps just because I couldn't find a way to express it at the time. I make no guarantee to timeline consistency here between chapters.

As ever, **huge** thanks goes out to Black Fox for her amazing Beta skills, and look forward to a few chapters from her as well at some point. I know some people have asked if they could write in this universe, if you do and send it to me, I just might slip it in if it fits into the story. As always, you may use my ideas, such as Claiming, so long as credit is given and links to my works are provided. Without further delay, let's check in on Starrk's Day of Victory.

The First

' _Why,_ _'_ Coyote Starrk thought as he surveyed the various conquests surrounding him, _'_ _doesn_ _'_ _t this seem as if I_ _'_ _ve really won anything?_ _'_

Maybe he would have felt more triumph if the prizes he'd taken weren't so damaged and stricken-looking. Despite treatment rendered by the one called Unohana-Taichou, Ukitake Jushiro was still in rough shape. Starrk would have preferred it if the man could walk unaided, but that was probably wishing for too much. He and Lilinette would have to settle for 'still alive and still breathing… sort of and proceed from there.

His fellow Espada had started the selection process, singling out those they wanted from the surviving Taichou and Fukutaichou. Moreover, Aizen would summon the rest of the lower-ranking Arrancar soon and chaos would descend on the conquered as the Numeros set about finding pets of their own. Before that happened, Starrk needed to keep the promise he'd recently made to the foe he'd vanquished and remove his two new charges from the line of fire. That included ushering any family they might have to safety too, lest they end up in the middle of the carnage. He sighed and decided that there was no time like the present to start.

"You are Ise Nanao, correct?"

The young woman wearing glasses and clutching Kyoraku Shunsui's blood-drenched kimono slowly nodded in response, but her teary eyes stayed on her fellow captive's pale face. She hadn't left Jushiro's side since Starrk had brought him back to the Soul Society. Perhaps that was for the best, since her presence made fulfilling his vow to her dead mate considerably easier.

"Good. I officially Claim you as mine," he stated, his normally sleepy voice loud enough the others in the room would hear him. He didn't want any confusion over the fact he was taking her in addition to Ukitake.

Now her eyes met his and he could see the confusion in them. Despite Aizen's speech, it was clear that she didn't fully comprehend her change in status. With luck, she'd never have to learn the full extent of what a Claim entailed, but if it came down to it, Starrk knew he'd have to risk casting one on her. From the look of her, she might not survive the first three minutes of the act. Then the Espada set his concerns aside and focused on consolidating his new pack.

"Things are about to become unpleasant. Do you have any family?"

"No," she eventually replied, still gripping the pink haori as if her life depended on it. Starrk didn't sense any deception on her part and from the bereft way she stared at the garment in her fists, he surmised that he'd probably robbed her of the one person that qualified as kin.

A sinking feeling spread throughout his stomach and it only grew worse when he addressed the man leaning heavily on Ise-san's shoulder. His face was as white as his hair and Starrk wasn't certain how long he'd be able to stay on his feet.

"What of you?"

"I… I have a mother… and siblings," Ukitake rasped. One of Nanao's hands flew to the Taichou's bicep. Grasping it, she slid his arm over her shoulder in an attempt to keep him upright. Starrk frowned as the action revealed the extent of the Shinigami's weakness. Perhaps he would ask Ulquiorra if he could borrow Inoue Orihime's talents later to fix the rest of the damage. The Fourth Espada hadn't bothered to wait until the end of the war to Claim the woman he wanted and if Starrk needed her abilities, he'd have to bide his time until the dust cleared.

"Take me to them," he ordered. Dread immediately bloomed in the Taichou's eyes and Starrk found it necessary to elaborate. "I can offer them my protection, but to do that, I need to establish my territory and den as soon as possible. Lead the way."

The fear in Ukitake's eyes only deepened at this. If the man had any doubts about the necessity of leaving, Lilinette's next impatient words buried them.

"C'mon! Let's go! If we don't hurry, some other jerk'll try and snatch what we've won!"

She stomped her foot in agitation and then stalked around Starrk, until she was behind the two officers. Then she put both hands on the small of Nanao's back in an attempt to push her. The woman jumped at his other half's brazenness, but got moving, assisting Jushiro as he murmured directions to his family's holdings. Thankfully, she seemed to know where they were supposed to go; when the Taichou's eyes suddenly rolled back into his head and his knees buckled, she took over the job of navigating down the white, featureless streets of the Seireitei. Starrk had no choice but to follow her, carrying the limp Jushiro while Lilinette left a trail of grouchy curses in her wake.

A loud, ripping sound high overhead stopped them just as they approached the west gate. The Garganta appeared as a black rent in the sunset-colored sky, the darkness growing as the seconds ticked by. Starrk knew what he would see if he looked over his shoulder: almost one hundred, white-clad Arrancar piling through the tear, intent on pillaging the unsuspecting Shinigami. The very walls that should have kept those warriors safe would serve to keep them penned in and ripe for hunting. He guessed that Aizen had already used his Shikai to conceal any potential escape routes the doomed could use to flee, judging by the way his soon-to-be-pets had balked at going through the open gate. Their reticence left him no choice but to pick up Nanao and haul them both through against their will.

Jushiro's family lived farther away than Starrk expected, though the property was still within the boundaries of the wealthy 1st District. The Ukitake Estate turned out to be a large walled compound with a very old, heavy gate bearing the clan seal and lit by several lanterns with the sigils for 'protection' painted on their paper screens. Beyond the walls, the Arrancar saw the top of numerous trees. He stared at them, never having seen the real thing before, while Nanao unsuccessfully tried to push it open by herself. Lilinette made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat after a minute and marched over the help. Once inside, it was a mercifully short trot to the house.

The elderly woman who answered the door when Nanao knocked on it sighed when she saw Jushiro's limp body. Her resigned expression was so much like that of the unconscious man that Starrk concluded that she must be a close relative.

"Oh dear, another attack? I'm surprised Unohana let you bring him home!"

The cargo in his arms didn't stir and the lack of movement began to worry him in earnest. If he didn't mark this place, trouble might arrive sooner than he expected. At the same time, barging past the Ukitake elder seemed somehow wrong, though he didn't think Lilinette had it in her to wait for an invitation, so he did his best to obtain permission to enter.

"I am afraid that she is… indisposed. May we come in?"

His two eyes met Lilinette's one and whatever his other half had been about to snap died on her tongue. The old lady's frown deepened as she scrutinized him, taking in the hole in the middle of his chest and the bone circling his neck without a word. The longer she remained silent, the more Starrk began to sweat.

In the end, the sound of Ceros exploding in the distance and the eerie orange and red glow coming from the direction of the Seireitei's high walls did the trick. If the Estate had been any closer, the screams of poorly-prepared Shinigami would have been audible too. From the way her lips thinned as she listened to the barrage, Starrk guessed that she'd put the pieces of the situation together correctly and was now trying to decide what to do. Maybe the fact that he had her still-breathing-but-not-quite-whole kinsman draped over his shoulder like a coat led her to conclude that not all was right in the Soul Society, and that it would be in her best interests to do as he said.

A few tense moments went by before she stepped aside and fully opened the door.

"You may enter. Ise-san, I trust you know where to find my son's room and the first aid kit. Would you be so kind as to tend to him while I speak with your… ah… companion?"

"Of course, Ukitake-san."

"Help her, Lilinette."

Starrk handed Jushiro off to the Fukutaichou as he uttered the command. Lilinette immediately rounded on him, annoyance plastered across her face.

"What! Why do I have to…?"

"Because I said so. Now get going."

He was sorely tempted to bare his teeth at her for her obstinacy, but settled on glaring. Correctly interpreting the look, she snorted but obeyed. The brat's departure left him alone in the foyer with Jushiro's mother, who eyed him warily. Her slight body also blocked the corridor. Starrk thought that her courage was laudable but futile and he had to get her to see that for now, he wasn't her biggest problem.

"Your family will be safe from any harm while I am here. I give you my solemn word. However, it would be best to get everyone to an easily-defendable room."

He put his hands up in a placating gesture. To her credit, the family matriarch wasted no more time on questions. Instead, she bowed and moved as swiftly as her clothing and her aged frame allowed, deeper into the house. Not wanting to become lost, Starrk pursued her as she gathered the rest of the household. Finding two of her daughters in one room playing some kind of game with a wooden board and tiles, she crisply instructed them to round up the rest of their siblings and take them to the largest of the common areas. She provided no explanation for either the command or the presence of the tall man behind her, but they immediately complied.

Their passing was much like the whisper of a faint breeze against the skin and he frowned. As more of the Ukitake daughters and the few staff members the family employed convened, his frown turned into a full-blown grimace.

' _So weak_ _…_ _the lot of them would barely count as a mouthful._ _'_

Their fragility was an unwelcome surprise, considering their brother's strength. Jushiro's mother was the lone exception; she had a healthy pool of reiatsu for a mere Plus, but the others… no, he and Lilinette might be the death of them if they stayed.

Starrk scratched his chin and wondered whether his current glumness was due to fatigue. He'd been wide awake and fighting for the better part of a day and the lack of sleep was starting to get to him. Nor could he nap the way he wanted until after Aizen called off the slaughter. Then he shook his head, to dispel all of the worries over things he could not change.

' _I_ _'_ _m over thinking this. They_ _'_ _ll be fine for a day or two. I can decide then what to do about them later._ _'_

The woman walking before him chose that moment to speak. Her accent was subdued and formal, betraying nothing of her thoughts or feelings. She didn't stink of fear, which said something about her self-control, but the set of her shoulders and the stiffness in her spine told him that despite his promise, she was still on guard.

"Forgive me. You must think I'm a terrible hostess. My name is Ukitake Kiku."

"Coyote Starrk, Primera Espada. My counterpart is Lilinette Gingerback," he replied as the elder entered the common area and pursed her lips. Her brown eyes darted about, falling on each occupant and Starrk quickly realized she was conducting a headcount. He let her take a tally, not knowing how many people actually lived on the Estate himself. Eventually, she let out a long, relieved breath and faced him.

"I wish I could say it is a pleasure to meet you, Starrk-san, but I presume that your presence and my son's condition are only part of whatever dreadful thing is going on out there. Am I correct?"

At this point, denial was out of the question, so he inclined his head in acknowledgement. Then he paused and decided that she deserved better for her cooperation.

"Aizen won. He's taken the Seireitei," he stated bluntly.

Her fingers reflexively clutched the fabric of her house kimono in response to the unhappy news, but she did not break down or give in to hysterics. Starrk was grateful for that, since he had almost no experience in handling such and didn't want to start now. Her next question was hesitant, as if she was afraid to know the answer.

"I see. What of Kyoraku Shunsui?"

"Dead. With his last breath, he asked me to protect his friend and mate if I could." When she paled he swiftly followed with, "By extension, I will protect his friend's family. It would do me no good to safeguard one without doing the same for his pack."

Now she finally lowered her head in an attempt to hide her grief. She wasn't a Hollow so her earlier acceptance of her family's new reality struck him as a little too good to be true.

"That boy… yes, I suppose Shunsui would ask for something noble like that," she murmured and then said nothing else. The only sounds in the large room came from her huddled daughters as they fearfully conversed among themselves. When she raised her head again Starrk saw resignation and sorrow vying for dominance in her eyes, but not the rage that should have accompanied those emotions.

"I've told my children and the staff not to leave this room for any reason. I will hold you to your promise to protect us, Hollow. However, I should see if Ise-san needs anything before we speak further. Please follow me."

Being used to taking orders and instructions from a smaller female, Starrk fell in behind her as she stepped out into the hall and slid the door closed. The Estate's corridors eerily reminded him of the Seireitei's look-alike streets; if he hadn't felt Jushiro and Nanao's reiatsu ahead of him and getting stronger as he approached, he would have been quite lost amid all of the twists and turns.

Kiku finally stopped at the end of one short corridor and without preamble, pushed the wooden door to the side. Her slipper-clad feet made no noise as she crossed the threshold, making Starrk's booted footfalls that much louder by comparison. Even so, no one else seemed to care, thanks to their preoccupation with the pale man lying on a sheet in the middle of the room. Nanao had stripped Jushiro down to his fundoshi and was busy wiping the barely-congealed blood from his chest and arms. She went about the task with an enviable efficiency. In the meantime, Lilinette had seen fit to pull a thick, rolled-up futon from a nearby cupboard and crouched next to it, waiting for Nanao to finish mopping up her unconscious charge.

"Oh my! He certainly coughed up a lot of blood this time," Kiku exclaimed, taking in the amount of red still smearing her son's body, as well as the water in the bowl next to the Fukutaichou and the growing pink stains on the sheet. Starrk made a face and provided as complete of an explanation as he dared.

"No. Most of that is from a chest wound."

"Unohana-Taichou did the best she could," Nanao added, sounding defensive. "His breathing is laboured, but I think he is just exhausted from the battle, not his illness."

One of the woman's silver brows rose an inch when she heard this.

"I'm familiar with my son's condition. Let me listen and be the judge of that."

She proceeded to kneel next to the prone Taichou in a practiced manner and pressed her ear against the left side of his chest as Starrk and Lilinette looked on. After a few minutes, the elderly lady dug an odd apparatus out of the first aid kit and inserted the knobby ends of two of the three tubes attached to it into her ears. She then placed the metal circle attached to of the last tube at a spot just above her son's heart and waited. Every time Jushiro took a shaky, wheezy breath, she moved the disk to a new location and repeated the short wait. Starrk didn't know what it was she was listening for, but if it required a device to hear, it was probably beyond his capabilities.

"Hmm, well, he doesn't sound _too_ bad. Let's finish cleaning him up and put him to bed. A full night's rest should do him good. Nanao-san, I trust you will be staying here for the time being?"

"I..."

"Yes, she'll be staying."

Starrk answered for Nanao before she could say anything to the contrary. Then he addressed her specifically. "Once you have him settled, I need to speak to you privately."

Nanao's eyes appeared too wide behind her glasses. Her face was a touch too pale and strands of her long brown hair had begun to escape from the clip at the back of her head. She was apprehensive, obviously not wanting to be alone with him, but when he folded his arms across his chest, she nodded. In the meantime,

"You must be Lilinette, yes?" Kiku asked his other half and smiled at the girl.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Dammit, Lilinette…" Starrk growled. She flinched but understood the message: be nice. Therefore, she heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned back to the matron.

"Fine. Whaddaya need?"

"Can you be a dear and fetch another bowl of hot water please? We need to be certain he has no other wounds." Pausing, the elderly woman suddenly looked at the other woman. "What of you, Ise-san? Are you injured?"

"No, I'm quite all right! You don't need to worry about me!" Nanao said in a rush and waved her hands, one still holding the pink washcloth, before her. A few drops of liquid scattered across the sheet and Lilinette chose that moment to escape, ostensibly for the requested water. "I was left in charge of the 8th Division. Kyoraku-Taichou... told me…"

Her words trailed off into nothingness and even Starrk knew better than to say anything. Once Lilinette returned with a bowl of clean water and new washcloth, Kiku and Nanao finished cleaning up Jushiro in silence. They bandaged a few of the man's overlooked scrapes and cuts, and finally rolled him into the waiting futon. He slept through the whole affair. Starrk thought that was just as well. It meant he could deal with the next order of business with minimum fuss.

"We need to talk, Nanao-san," he sighed as both women began to clean up the mess. "Lilinette, keep an eye on him for now and stay alert. Let me know if you sense any Arrancar activity outside the walls. There will be plenty of instinct-driven fools looking for dens in the next day or so and they need to find them someplace other than here."

Lilinette sniffed disdainfully, either at the order itself or the idea that anyone would be crazy enough to pick a fight with the combined Primera, but she eventually sat down in a comfortable place to watch over the slumbering Taichou.

"Is there a place where we won't be interrupted?" he asked Kiku as she rose with the new

"You know where the guest chambers are, Nanao-san. Why don't you two go pick out your rooms? Are you hungry? I can have the girls make something for you to eat…"

"Starving!" Lilinette piped up, though Starrk shook his head. He didn't want the staff to leave the safety of the common area yet. Nanao also turned down the offered meal, even as she got to her feet.

While his smaller half waited for her snack, the young woman led him down several corridors until they came to what he presumed were three guest suites. All were fully furnished, complete with a small kitchen, a bathroom equipped with a shower, a tiny water closet, a sitting room and finally, a bedroom. Starrk picked one and gestured for her to sit down before taking the cushion across from her.

"I will not lie to you. My blade ended your mate's life. It was not a battle I wanted to fight."

"My mate?" She seemed confused by this designation, so he elaborated.

"Was Shunsui not your mate? Did you not share a nest?"

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out and soon after, her cheeks turned bright red as she divined his meaning.

"Once," she confessed. It might have been a trick of the light across her glasses, but he thought he saw wetness at the corners of eyes that were already on the red side. "Last night."

"Ah, I see. It is tradition among Hollows to either kill the loser's pack members or take over the pack once there are no more contenders for the slain leader's position. It is not uncommon to take a defeated male's mate as one's own."

Nanao tensed at this and her brows knit. One hand shot up, its palm facing him and Starrk wanted to groan. Since her Zanpakuto had already been confiscated, she probably intended to use Kido against him if he made a move towards her. As tired as he was, he noted that she did not reach for her absent weapon, which told him that she must not have relied on it very much, or that she was much better at energy manipulation. Since he had no desire to end up on the wrong end of a Kido spell, he tried his best to appear non-menacing.

"Ise-san, don't misunderstand me. Shunsui asked me to care for you and his friend if I could. Aizen has given the Espada permission to Claim two pets, as is our right as the victors. Jushiro will be my first, you will be my second. As my pet, no other Arrancar can touch you unless I permit it."

Nanao's remained silent as she digested this bit of information, though she didn't lower her guard. Starrk didn't blame her, considering the natures of some of his cohorts. However, she needed to know the rules and the sooner she did so, the better.

"And what do you expect of me?"

His new underling sounded nervous, but not outright frightened. Starrk took it as progress.

"I do not expect you to share my nest," he told her, and then added, "You will take the rank of 'fraccion' and the role of a servant. You would not survive anything more than that. Just perform whatever tasks I assign you to the best of your ability."

That frank admission took her by surprise and the dread in her expression lessened. More silence followed while she regarded her hands, balled into fists and resting atop her thighs. Starrk allowed enough time, or so he thought, for the information to sink in and when she stayed quiet, he figured she had a grasp on her new station.

"Is there anything else?" Nanao asked after a long wait. Starrk's eyes travelled to the ceiling and decided that he ought to hand her his first order. With luck, and unlike Lilinette, she'd follow it and not give him too much grief.

"I do not want you to leave until things settle down. That includes going back to your Division. If you are concerned about your subordinates, abandon any idea of trying to help them. They will survive or fall depending upon their strength. If you leave, I will not be able to keep my promise to your mate. You should take this time to rest."

With that, Starrk stood and stretched, relishing the slow popping of his vertebrae. Before he could reach the door, he heard Nanao exhale. An unexpected question from her made him stop on the room's threshold, with one booted foot already in the hallway.

"Did he die well?"

He had to turn around to make sure he'd properly heard what amounted to a pained whisper.

"Pardon?"

She turned tear-stained eyes up to look at him and for a second, the pink haori she'd draped around her shoulders dwarfed her, its volume too much for her slight frame. If he breathed in deeply, he could still smell the dried blood staining it.

"Shunsui. Did he die honorably? Did he fight hard?"

"He fought well."

Keeping his reply short kept him from thinking about how dry his mouth felt as he uttered a gross understatement. His adversary had done more than just 'fight hard'. Starrk had prevailed of course but at that moment, going into greater detail struck him as decidedly wrong.

"Thank you."

The urge to leave became overwhelming and Starrk left her to sit in the room that would be hers for the foreseeable future. He didn't think she would do something drastic or foolish, at least not yet, and she wasn't stupid enough to think escape was possible… not with what was going on outside.

One thing of which he _was_ certain was Lilinette's low tolerance for boredom. It would be best to get her into bed before her innate crankiness got the better of her and she hurt someone. Retracing his steps, he returned to Jushiro's room. The patient was still comatose, having barely moved during Starrk's absence and his skinny nursemaid had just popped the last portion of whatever Ukitake Kiku fed her into her mouth.

"Oi, are ya done?" she snapped when she'd finished chewing and swallowing. Her eye narrowed. 'That was quick."

Starrk chose to ignore her lurid insinuation about Nanao.

"For now. Consider her our first fraccion. Are you done with your food?"

This time the girl grinned and patted her exposed stomach contentedly. The plate and bowl next to her were empty, devoid of crumbs. Starrk suspected she'd licked both dishes clean.

"Oh yeah! I could get used to eatin' like this every day!"

"Where is Ukitake-san?"

"You mean the old lady? She went back to stay with her weak-ass daughters."

He felt the beginnings of a headache. The last bit wasn't necessary, even if it was true.

"If your belly is full," he said as he hooked one thumb over his shoulder at the door, "I suggest you take the room next to mine and Ise-san's. I want you close if I need to use you. No starting any fights either."

One pink eye rolled in exasperation.

"Jeez…fine! I'm leaving. You're on babysitting duty. Don't fall asleep and let him croak while you're snoring!"

So saying, Lilinette scrambled to her feet and trotted down the hall, probably tracking Nanao's reiatsu. He let her go, not wanting one of her boots to find his head and make the dull ache behind his eyes a full-blown migraine.

' _That_ _'_ _s it_ _…_ _I need to lie down._ _'_

With the futon occupied, Starrk made do with a few cushions and tried to pretend he was back in Los Noches, lounging in his personal pile of pillows. After that, it was only a matter of finding a comfortable position and allowing his reiatsu to flow outward until it engulfed the Estate. Closing his eyes and tucking his chin until it came into contact with the remnant of his mask, Starrk kept at it until he was cognizant of every blade of grass, every tree and flower and most importantly, every heartbeat with the confines of the compound walls.

His senses expanded as well, allowing him to detect the rest of Aizen's forces. Several of the Arrancar, as well as all of the Espada, had moved from the Seireitei to the inner Districts in search of new dens, their newly-Claimed Shinigami and Plus pets in tow. The bloodshed wasn't over either, but there was nothing he could do for the rest of the Soul Society.

Kiku entered the room a few times during the night, mostly to check on her son, but Starrk put a stop to the visits as the sky in the east began to turn pink. When she asked why, he pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead and informed her that it would be best to see to other things until he sent for her later.

He hoped that she would do as instructed and not press him for answers. Aizen, using his recently-gained abilities, had just relayed an unfortunate, unwelcome message regarding his prizes. The Espada didn't think the matron would want to witness what he would have to do to them.

(POV)

Jushiro stirred to life and immediately regretted waking up. He was in his own room, back at his childhood home rather than the 13th Division's Taichou's quarters, which puzzled him for a few seconds. In his exhausted state, he almost wondered if he hadn't dreamed the whole battle during a drinking binge with Shunsui. The sprawled form on the cushions next to his futon even looked like his friend, until his eyes focused in the thin morning light and the individual rolled over to contemplate him.

Shunsui's eyes weren't grey, nor was he in the habit of wearing a fanged lower jaw bone as a necklace. They stared at one another, while Jushiro's heart sank. The events of the previous day trickled back into his brain, which only added to his despair.

"You are awake," Starrk observed. The lanky Espada sat up and scratched the back of his neck. Jushiro tried to do the same and failed miserably.

"My family?"

"Safe for now, as is Ise-san."

The constriction in Jushiro's chest lessened at this, though his relief was short-lived.

"Aizen made a declaration a few hours ago."

Judging by the Hollow's tone, he assumed that whatever the traitor proclaimed wouldn't end well for anyone.

"What was it?"

"All Taichou-class Shinigami _must_ be Claimed. Otherwise, Aizen will execute them."

There was more to the statement than Starrk let on, if his unhappy face was any indication. Jushiro did his best to remember what the term 'Claim' meant. Aizen had mentioned something about them during the brief, post-defeat assembly and Shunsui had said something to Starrk about them in regards to Nanao before… before…

"I will not force myself upon you, so the decision is yours to make. Do you wish to get on your hand and knees beneath me, or do you wish for death?"

The question startled him, temporarily keeping him from reliving his best friend's death yet again and giving him something new about which to worry.

Hands and knees?

' _What is he saying? He can_ _'_ _t possibly mean what_ _…'_

When Starrk didn't say anything to the contrary, or provide a different take on the lurid scenario Jushiro's mind was frantically putting together. The very thought of doing something like that, with a Hollow no less, shocked and appalled him. Worse, if he understood what Aizen intended, the alternative to enslavement via rape was death.

He was tempted to open his mouth and say that he'd prefer execution, but he couldn't just do that to the survivors, especially Nanao. That sent his thoughts down another, darker alleyway and this time he hauled his body into a sitting position.

Kami, what had he done to Nanao? Claiming apparently involved sex and Starrk had declared he would Claim Nanao as 'his' at the meeting…

"What about Nanao-san? Did you give her the option, or did you just take her?"

Jushiro said this through gritted teeth, rounding on the Espada and Starrk immediately shook his head.

"No. She is not Taichou-class and his edict does not apply to her… unless there is something about her you are both hiding."

The sleepy-eyed Hollow followed that with an almost-hurt expression. Jushiro thought it odd that the Espada seemed to take offense at the idea that he'd force himself on the woman. Nevertheless, he was grateful she remained unharmed and whole, at least bodily.

"She is a gifted Kido Master, but she does not have a Bankai. So, you truly _haven_ _'_ _t_ touched her?"

"No, nor do I plan to Claim her. She will function as my fraccion, and will be bound to me in that manner. Unfortunately, Aizen will not let me do the same with you, as I had originally hoped. I will give you a few minutes to think about it."

His tired-looking captor rose from the cushions, used his toe to push an empty plate out of the way and made for the door, scratching his side. Jushiro, still stunned that the creature would give him a choice in the matter at all, stared at the other's back.

He had no illusions about Aizen's decree – the former Taichou would follow through with the death sentence if he refused. His Division was most likely under siege or utterly lost and as much as he'd trusted his two 3rds Seats to see to the day-to-day running of things, they weren't much in the leadership department. The other Divisions were in the same fix. The only thing he thought might keep Aizen from killing the rest of the Gotei 13 was the necessity of the Shinigami's most basic function: performing konso and preserving an even ledger of souls. Not even Aizen could go against that mandate.

There were some responsibilities more important than his pride or his dignity.

' _I am still a Taichou. I'm still bound to keep the balance between the Realms, even if it costs me my life… or my freedom. There are still people who need me, who depend on me and not all of them are under this roof.'_

"I don't need a minute," he told the Espada. "I cannot protect anyone if I am dead."

He saw Starrk's hand, which he'd raised in order to push open the room's door, fall back to his side, though he did not turn around. The lack of enthusiasm in his reply spoke volumes.

"So be it. Do you have anything to use as a lubricant?"

"There should be some cream in my bathroom. It's through that..."

Jushiro moved his blanket aside, intending to retrieve it, but Starrk was already rummaging through his medicine chest. The Hollow returned a moment later, not with the requested jar. Instead, he'd found a plastic container from the Living World one of his subordinates had given him as a gift two New Year's prior. It was half-full of the petroleum jelly that he normally used on his perpetually chapped lips and dry skin during the colder months.

He swallowed a few times as he stared at the jar in his hand.

For all of his extensive experience as a Shinigami, when it came to sex he was no better than the greenest of Academy enrolees. His condition had proved a turnoff to potential partners in his younger years and as a Taichou, he'd lacked the necessary time to pursue serious relationships with women, to say nothing of a man. That didn't mean he was naïve about the mechanics; while rape was not a common occurrence, it wasn't unheard of amongst the troops. All Taichou undertook mandatory lessons on how to handle such a situation if it arose, as well as how to recognize a victim's post-traumatic symptoms, since more than a few had tried to hide what had happened to them over the centuries.

It had never occurred to Ukitake Jushiro that he would be on the receiving end. The only consolation in all of this was that the perpetrator didn't actually want to go through with the act either.

He opened the jar and did his best to ignore the Espada as he disrobed. Mercifully, Starrk didn't rush him as he laid back and slowly inserted a lubed finger inside of himself. It stung, but he forced his way through it. Of course, if a finger hurt this much, how bad was it going to be when Starrk entered him? He did his best not to think about it.

"Calm down," Starrk ordered. "I will do my best not to harm you, but it will only work if you relax."

"Easier said than done," he countered, but tried to control his breathing. When he finally had three fingers inside, he let the Espada know he was as ready as he was going to be. Starrk let his _hakama_ fall to the floor, took the jar, and rubbed a thick layer of the jelly on his shaft. Slowly, the Hollow coaxed it into a state of arousal. He was also not looking at Jushiro. Instead, he'd closed his eyes. The Shinigami wondered who, if anyone, he was really thinking about in order to remain hard enough to follow through with the act.

His eyes widened at the sight of Starrk's length when it sprang fully to life. It was far thicker than his three fingers combined and longer than he'd expected. How bad would something like that feel when it dug at his insides?

"When you are ready for me, get on your hands and knees," Starrk instructed. "One-sided Claims are always done from behind."

Taking a deep breath, Jushiro did as instructed and waited. His long hair fell to either side of his face like white curtains, shielding everything but the sheets immediately below him from view.

' _This is for my family, for those that look to me for guidance. I will not abandon my duty just because we were defeated._ _'_

It was still hard not to flinch when he felt Starrk rest a hand on his left hip.

"What do you know of Claiming?"

If the Espada behind him was trying to put him at ease, he was doomed to failure. Jushiro decided to tell him the truth, since it would do no good to put up a false front. He'd deduced that it was potentially dangerous; Starrk had revealed that Claiming Nanao might well kill her. Whether it would do the same to him was debatable.

"Nothing."

"Well, you are a Shinigami… it was probably too much to expect you to understand, so I'll be brief. In layman's terms, I will pour my reiatsu into your body as I take you. I won't lie; you will perceive it as pleasurable. This is normal, so don't be alarmed. When I've infused you with enough of my energy, I will bite down and drink a mouthful of your blood. I will also take a small portion of your reiatsu and retrieve most of mine with it. This will enslave you and bind you to me. You will be unable to defy any order I give you. You won't be able to deceive me either. I'll feel what you feel, physically and emotionally. That's the way it works."

Jushiro flipped back around to stare at Starrk in horror at the implications. The thought was terrifying, but the tactician in him understood the reasoning underlying Aizen's sordid orders. If he had full control over the remaining Taichou via his minions, it would also work as a deterrent to any sort of organized rebellion. Starrk could order him to purge his entire Division or kill his family and he would have to obey.

The idea was beyond outrageous. It was sick, the product of a twisted, amoral mind. It was also, sadly, an effective means of keeping several powerful entities in line.

"Do you wish to change your mind?"

"I…" he stammered, suddenly uncertain about the whole thing. He could endure run-of-the-mill sex, but having his will shackled was something else. Then Starrk brought up something he hadn't considered.

"If I do not Claim you, and should Aizen want you alive, he can easily give you to another. If you want, I can spare you such an end and kill you now. I would make it painless and quick. There are others who would not be as obliging."

None of the array of less-than-great options appealed to him, but allowing Starrk to execute him, after his mother and Nanao had gone to such trouble to see to him was one choice he immediately set aside. He would not traumatize his immediate family by dying in the heart of his own home. That left death by Aizen or submission to the male half of Aizen's strongest Espada.

It was not an easy decision, but when he weighed what little he knew of Coyote Starrk and his behavior thus far, Jushiro had to concede that he'd been decent towards both Nanao and Jushiro's mother. He'd made good on his promise to Shunsui. He'd displayed no sign of the sadism he'd seen the dark-robed skeleton with the crown exhibit and was also right as far as his assessment of how poorly the other, more powerful Espada might treat him. The coyote and his mouthy counterpart were the best of the bunch.

"You won't use this power to force me to harm anyone, will you?"

Starrk scratched his scalp, but said, "Not unless Aizen-kami tells me to do so. As for me, my only instructions are to never raise your power against us, unless if it is in self-defence, and to continue with whatever duties Kami-sama gives you. Do them to the best of your ability."

It was likely the best, most honest answer he would get. With that weight off of his shoulders, Jushiro shifted once more to his hands and knees. A moment later he felt the heat of Starrk's cock nudge his entrance. He forced himself to take easy breaths and relax as much as he could, but it was hard to do.

His sphincter stretched painfully around Starrk's girth as the Espada slid into his body. Mercifully, the Hollow moved slowly, giving the man beneath him time to adjust to the intrusion. Eventually, the pain faded to an uncomfortable ache, with the lubrication easing things. When the Espada was about halfway in, Jushiro felt Starrk's other hand grasp his left hip to hold him still.

"How are you doing?"

"It hurts," Jushiro confessed, his voice strained, "but I can bear it."

"I am going to pull back out. The next thrust will be accompanied by a burst of my power. This will end quicker if you do not struggle or try to fight my reiatsu with yours. You will feel a strong burst of pleasure with each dose of energy. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I am going to be."

Starrk slowly pulled back, until just the head remained within. Then he pushed in and this time he did not pause until their hips met fully. There _was_ pain, but it paled in comparison to the stunning sensation that flooded him. Jushiro's eyes, previous screwed shut in anticipation of something dreadful, flew open. His back arched and he bit down on his inner cheek in an attempt to stifle a cry. Starrk held still, though Jushiro could feel the tremble in the legs pressed against the backs of his upper thighs.

When his shocked brain churned to life once more, he found he was panting. More embarrassingly, the limp flesh hanging between his legs had hardened. Jushiro, unfortunately, didn't have time to ruminate on his unexpected erection, as Starrk pulled out and thrust again. This time the head of the Espada's cock pressed against a spot within him that turned his spine into water. It also delivered another bout of powerful reiatsu into the core of his being.

This time there was no holding back his cries. He'd never felt anything like it, not even wielding stolen and amplified energy with _S_ _ō_ _gyo no Kotowari_. The white-hot pleasure licked along his nerves, sending his body into near-spasms with each successive infusion.

'Pleasurable' was an understatement, he thought hazily, before another delicious wave drowned him. After the fourth thrust, he began to lose track of time and the number of infusions. He was vaguely aware of his chest pressing against the sheets and his hips moving on their own to meet each of Starrk's movements, as well as the overwhelming need for friction against his shamefully stiff cock. Each strike to his prostate sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin.

At least he wasn't the only one feeling the effects. Starrk's hands shook and his grip tightened. On more than one occasion, Jushiro thought he heard a low groan or a few bits of shaky-muttered profanity from behind. Maybe it meant that the Espada wasn't as experienced at this as he'd first assumed.

Eventually the fullness of Starrk's reiatsu inside of him crossed an unseen threshold into bloated discomfort, which did nothing to mitigate his rapidly-approaching climax. It was too much, too overwhelming and Jushiro imagined his body popping like a balloon in danger of bursting with a mere pinprick.

The form behind him abruptly shoved forward and hot breath scoured the back of his neck. The heat covered up the sting of a set of sharp teeth as they broke his skin and once his engorged cock came into contact with the rumpled cotton sheets, it was all over. The bite and the friction undid him completely. Starrk stiffened and shuddered against him and Jushiro detected a lessening of the reiatsu that threatened to shatter him from the inside out. It slowly drained away as the Espada sucked it back, along with a portion of Jushiro's power and blood. His very first orgasm ended up with him shooting streams of cum onto the bedding and making an embarrassingly animalistic sound while he did it.

He made no move to throw off the weight that kept him pinned while his release played out and Starrk completed the Claim. His arms and legs wouldn't have obeyed him anyway. Thankfully, the intensity of the sensations roiling through him subsided enough for him to feel his extremities and bring his ragged breathing under control. He also winced when Starrk's flaccid cock slipped from him. The Arrancar's cum subsequently leaked from his overstretched hole, to join his own seed staining the bed. Wrinkling his nose at the sharp smell, he balled his fists and tried to gather his thoughts as Starrk collapsed next to him. It was small consolation that the Hollow seemed as wasted as he was by the ordeal.

"How are you feeling?"

There was concern in the other's equally-fragged voice, which didn't quite make up for what had just happened to him.

"I… I think you downplayed a few things," Jushiro croaked as his body slowly came down from its high and he became aware of more than a few bruises and a slow burning in his nether regions. He lacked the energy to deal with them so he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his folded arms. "I'll live."

"Good. If it helps, Claiming usually exhausts both parties. Sleep. You will feel better in a few hours."

There was something more to the command than just a simple request. Staying awake became impossible. Before Jushiro could protest, the bedroom, the mingled scents of sex and sweat and the sight of the Espada propped up on one elbow next to him on the futon faded to nothing. The pain in his backside and the dull throbbing of his bandaged wounds faded too, until the blackness swallowed him.

When he next awakened, it was afternoon. From the slant of the light, it had to be less than an hour before the early winter sunset. At first it seemed as if the sex he'd had with Starrk was nothing more than a bizarre dream, but when he shifted and his ass and back immediately complained, he realized his mistake. The unhealed bite on his shoulder confirmed his fears and the feel of the alien reiatsu surrounding his hammered the fact home.

He'd finally lost his virginity, to a male Arrancar.

' _Not the way I envisioned my first time._ _'_

Rolling over, he found Starrk gone, which relieved him. Starrk hadn't hurt him, but what did one say to a Hollow on the morning after one's enslavement? Any conversation would have been awkward, at best, and from what he could tell, Starrk wasn't the loquacious sort.

Someone had wiped Jushiro's thighs clean, for which he was grateful. In addition, there was a cup of lukewarm medicinal tea and a tray of easy finger food waiting for him. Both things were typical of his mother's tender care. She'd probably checked on him at some point during the day, most likely when she'd brought in the tea and the food tray. The idea of her having to see to him after he'd… after he and Starrk… well, it was utterly mortifying. Then again, he couldn't see Nanao, or worse, his sisters, performing such an embarrassing task. Of course she would have seen the whole of the Claim's aftermath.

Jushiro slowly staggered to the bathroom and then partook of the meal left for him. After filling his stomach, he lay back on the futon and contemplated Starrk's reiatsu. After assessing it, and pushing against it with his own considerable energy, he began to think of it as a kind of net. There was some 'flex' to it, but he doubted that it would give way, even if he put all of his strength behind an attempt to tear it. It didn't seem to hinder him and he hoped that after a few days, he would grow accustomed to it.

Shifting to his side, he drifted off again. Even with Unohana's healing, his body had gone through a lot of trauma. He needed to regain his strength, something he knew he would need when he had to face what had become of the Gotei 13 and the rest of the Soul Society. The only thing he hoped was that the state of the afterlife wouldn't make him wish he'd chosen death instead.

* * *

Stay tuned for chapter 2, where we will see Barragan, Yumichika, Ggio and Soi Fon.


	2. The Second

The Second

' _Well,_ _'_ he thought with as much sarcasm as he could muster under the circumstances, _'_ _This is just_ fabulous _._ _'_

Yumichika was no stranger to petty tyrants, though it had been some time since one had posed any threat to him on a personal level. His last encounter with one had preceded his friendship with Ikakku by at least twenty years and he'd met the bald brawler over a century ago. Now he found himself face-to-face with yet another despot. The Espada hovering over both him and an injured Soi Fon smirked at them in a way that Yumichika knew meant bad things were coming. Worse, that triumphant sneer served as a trigger, dredging up survival instincts he thought he'd buried under six feet of martial accomplishments and a steep rise in status.

The warnings those long-dormant instincts screamed at him – to run as far and as fast as he could - were as worthless now as they had been then. Thankfully, Barragan Louisenbairn's eyes went from his lazy inspection of Yumichika's person to glaring expectantly at his two surviving underling. That gave the 11th's 5th Seat a chance to breathe and consider the few options left to them, since Soi Fon seemed to have settled on a strategy that involved burning holes in their captors with her gaze alone.

He wanted to cluck his tongue at her. If such had been possible, a much younger Yumichika would have reduced the majority of the 79th District to ash while he still resided there.

"Ggio, Nirgge…"

"Sire!"

Each fraccion saluted quickly, their fists thumping their chests and following that with deep bows. The hoary old man snorted and growled out his next order.

"I require an appropriate palace. Find one."

"I think I know just the place," the one called Ggio Vega said promptly, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. "I went over Tousen's reports regarding the Seireitei in preparation for this day. Shall I make sure that the information they contained is accurate?"

"Do so. I await your answer."

The Arrancar bowed again and vanished, leaving his hulking fellow to mind the two wounded, depleted Shinigami. Yumichika thought Nirgge would have fit right in as a bodyguard for some of the less-savoury criminal bosses in the higher numbered Districts.

"What do you require of me, Majesty?" the lout asked and Barragan jerked his chin at Soi Fon's hunched form.

"Bring the woman. I'm going to make her suffer for daring to oppose me. Don't bother being gentle. If she puts up a fuss, you can strike her at will."

"As you wish, sire!"

"Don't even think of touching me!"

Battered in body and with a broken arm, Soi Fon's words held more bark than bite. Yumichika gave her points for bravado, and a dozen more for attempting to resist despite Barragan's threat. She had to be in agony, but her hateful glare never wavered.

It wasn't really a contest; Nirgge easily dragged her to her feet by her hair and pulled her unbroken arm behind her back. That put an end to any resistance and Yumichika winced at the sight of the head of the Onmitsukidō hanging like a rag doll in the brute's grip.

" _You_ have deprived me of one of my fraccion," Barragan declared sternly, and it took him only a second to realize he was now being addressed by the Espada.

Oh yes, he knew tyrants. There were really only two ways of dealing with them. The first method involved a blunt instrument and the repeated application of overwhelming force to the bridge of the nose, or a similar physical weak spot. The second required enough intelligence to determine the target's mental weak spot and a never-ending supply of flattery delivered by someone with good looks and an abundance of charm.

"I did you and the universe a favour," Yumichika sniffed and waved his hand as elegantly as he could, drawing on past experience and skills he wished he could forget. If the Second Espada was impressed, he didn't show it.

"You have slain a servant, and I feel it only fitting that _you_ replace him."

"Me?" Yumichika fluttered his eyelashes. "You want _me_ as one of your fraccion?" He pressed all ten fingertips his hands to his chest as if he were honoured to be nominated. While he had zero interest in acting the lackey for a Hollow, if doing so would spare others and allow him to live long enough to find a way out of this mess, he'd dance the dance.

"You are not fit to be a fraccion, but you _can_ fulfill one of Charlotte's baser functions."

Barragan's avaricious gaze traveled up and down the officer's form and one corner of his mouth curled up in a way that put Yumichika on edge. "Aizen gave us _permission,_ _"_ he continued, "to take pets. You'll do nicely."

He felt his smile falter as the black-robed goat leered at him. No, he definitely didn't approve of this, but he couldn't deny that there wasn't much to stop the Arrancar from doing what he wanted to them. Without a Zanpakuto he had no chance of defeating such a strong opponent and Soi Fon-Taichou was in no shape to fight.

Yumichika's heart sank as he realized what Barragan meant. He also knew the futility of putting up a struggle under the circumstances. Judging by this particular tyrant's expression, he'd soon end up bent over the nearest handy object. He'd learned this hard lesson when he was younger and so he changed his tactic to one that would allow him to walk afterward without limping.

Thus, he donned a coy smile. Soi Fon's shocked sputtering at his about-face and his blatant flirting probably served to cover any worries about her own plight. Nirgge responded by jostling her. She fell silent, white-faced with pain, thanks to her arm.

' _If she keeps that up, he might just kill her, Aizen or no Aizen,_ _'_ Yumichika inwardly groaned and resolved to keep Barragan fixated on him. With that in mind, he suppressed several shudders of revulsion and batted his eyelashes without trying to look as if he had any ulterior motives.

It wasn't long before they were the only ones in the hall. The other Espada, a disquieting looking bunch all told, had pushed, pulled and dragged the surviving top officers away, one by one. There was no helping them either and Yumichika didn't bother trying.

' _Do what you can with what you have and keep breathing._ _'_ That grim mantra had seen him through troubled times in the past and he fell back on it now that it looked like this Espada wasn't going to do him the courtesy of finding a private den.

"Disrobe," Barragan ordered, in a tone that told anyone who heard it that he would accept nothing less than complete obedience.

"As you wish."

Yumichika bowed to the Aspect of Old Age, before starting his strip-tease. He ignored Soi Fon's wide-eyed stare, though he was grateful that Ichigo's sisters were already gone. They certainly didn't need to witness this sordid affair. Letting the fabric of his kosode slide from his shoulders, he carefully untied the sash at his waist. A sensual shimmy of hips resulted in his pleated hakama pooling around his ankles. Voluntarily undressing meant he wouldn't have to wear shredded garments later, since he wouldn't put it past the Espada to rip his _shihakusho_ from him if necessary. His pale skin was unmarred, thanks to Charlotte's Chuhlhourne's inept attacks and aside from a smudged face and rumpled hair, Yumichika thought he still qualified as 'fetching.'

The tent that slowly formed at the front of Barragan's hakama told him that he had the Espada's full attention. He hesitated briefly when he got to his fundoshi, but passed the pause off as part of the show. There was a fine line between teasing and taunting and Yumichika did his best to unwind the long strip of fabric in the most seductive manner possible. There was also an art to removing one's sandals and tabi without the crass act of bending over. Thankfully, he'd mastered that too.

When Yumichika finally achieved full nudity, he struck a pose and peered up at Barragan through his dark lashes, knowing that position would favour his violet eyes. Lesser thugs had been rendered speechless by that sultry little trick. To clinch things, he lowered his voice, added a bit of breathiness to his next words.

"Do you like what you see, _Your Majesty_?"

"It is… acceptable," Barragan grunted, but Yumichika detected the lust mixed with the grudging admission and hoped Soi Fon thanked him later. Unfortunately, the Espada wasn't going to make things easy for him, since he added, "Though beauty is hardly a testament to skill."

"I may be a bit rusty. It has been some time since anyone bothered taking notice of my perfection," he confessed and stretched leisurely. It was past time to convince this old creep of his worthiness, even if doing so made his skin crawl. Putting one reluctant foot in front of another, he sauntered to the spot where Barragan sat, alternately leering and glowering, until he stood within arm's reach of the monster. "Unfortunately, the dolts in the Division to which I was assigned wouldn't have known comeliness if it slapped their faces." Placing one finger on his cheek, he decided to go all in and winked. "I'm sure you have a much better, more refined sense of aesthetics than they possessed."

A few seconds went by and Yumichika feared that he'd overdone it when Barragan's hairy white brows knit and his forehead furrowed. Then the Espada raised his hand and made a twirling motion with one thick finger.

"Turn around," he ordered gruffly. Yumichika complied in a deliberately provocative manner, pivoting until he faced away from the wrinkled bastard. Sadly, that meant he locked eyes with Soi Fon. Fury and disgust fought with one another for control of her features, though he suspected her wrath was directed at the Arrancar holding her captive, rather than at his willingness to whore himself out to the victors. She opened her mouth, ready to send another torrent of abuse in Barragan's direction but nothing escaped her. Nirgge's big hand slid from her neck to cover her mouth, cutting off any name-calling before it could begin. His other hand jacked her uninjured arm higher behind her back and her cheeks took on a grey hue.

At that moment, Yumichika's greatest wish was for the feisty Taichou to lose consciousness. The fewer witnesses to his shame, the better.

He heard the rustling of someone getting to their feet and braced himself. A second later, one of Barragan's gnarled hands rested on his shoulder. The other rudely grasped his bare ass. Yumichika almost flinched, but caught himself in time. Meanwhile the Espada began to explore his body. The hand on his ass squeezed each cheek, as if testing the ripeness of fruit, before moving to his hip. Rough fingertips brushed across his collarbone, caressing his chest and lean stomach. Without warning, those hands jerked him backwards, until he was pressed tightly against the Second's pelvis.

He couldn't help shivering when Barragan reached around and let his digits comb through the silky, neatly-trimmed hair surrounding Yumichika's flaccid cock. With luck, the pawing bastard would think the trembling was from something other than revulsion. A musty smell that reminded him vaguely of wood left to rot in the rain filled his nose.

"I see you tend to every aspect of your body," Barragan muttered into his ear and Yumichika tried not to gag.

"Perfection demands it," he reflexively responded, hating how quickly he was able to dredge the words from memory, but seeing little choice. The erection digging into his buttocks didn't help his composure.

"Excellent. Then I can trust that you will maintain such perfection, for so long as you amuse me."

This time he couldn't hold back his shiver of revulsion, one Barragan seemed to take for anticipation. The hands on him disappeared, but that didn't bring any sense of relief, as he knew what would follow. True enough, he heard the rustle of heavy fabric being shifted around.

"Come here, boy."

Yumichika turned and walked the short distance to where Barragan waited. He, doing his best not to look down at the rigid, if wrinkled, length sticking up from a nest of coarse gray hair. To his dismay, the Espada was thicker and longer than he would have preferred. Experience had taught him taking a rod that big into his body without preparation or at least some sort of lubrication would result in injury.

Obtaining such, therefore, became of paramount importance.

"Impressive," he said aloud. It wasn't exactly a lie either. "I don't suppose you happen to have some form of lubrication in one of your pockets?" When one of Barragan's eyebrows inched up, he slathered a hopeful expression on his face. He also told another truth. "It's been a long time since I pleasured another man and you're very well-endowed. I think some assistance will help me cope with such bounty."

Begging mixed with florid praise had worked for him in the past and he truly did not want his insides torn apart.

Barragan chuckled dryly at this, but gestured to Nirgge. The mastodon immediately removed his hand from Soi Fon's mouth and started to root around in his uniform, until he found what he wanted. Yumichika was deeply relieved to see him pull a tube from one of his pockets, though he was surprised when the fraccion tossed it to him, rather than to Barragan. He quickly caught it before it could hit the ground. He also noted that the seal on the tube was broken, meaning that this wasn't the first time someone had used its contents.

Yumichika pushed away any nauseating thoughts about the tusked Arrancar and his master. He didn't need those images in his head, although Barragan's earlier comment regarding the late Charlotte's 'baser functions' came back to haunt him. Evidently, the role of fraccion involved satisfying their leader sexually.

"Prepare yourself for me and I will decide if you're worth the trouble."

He wanted to roll his eyes, but didn't dare do it, nor was he going to argue. If the Espada wanted to watch him apply lube, so be it, especially if it meant he didn't have to look at the ugly Hollow. For that reason, Yumichika took the command a step further and went down to his hands and knees, spreading his legs wide to ensure Barragan looked nowhere else. Maybe, if he was lucky, the old coot would shoot his load without needing to mount him, but he doubted it.

Once positioned, he poured a generous amount of the cream onto one hand and reached between his legs. He worked himself slowly and erotically, finding that the cream caused one's skin to heat up once applied. In addition to stretching his hole and lubing it generously, he stroked his own cock several times, mostly because he knew it would excite his rapist. The harder Barragan became, the sooner this debacle would end.

Closing his eyes, Yumichika tried to concentrate on a few choice memories of several pretty ladies he'd had the good fortune to bed during his time at the Academy. The details didn't matter, so long as his private fantasies kept his flagging erection at half-mast. It almost worked, until a pair of withered hands grasped his hips. Neither his daydream nor the lube was enough to ease the pain of the sudden intrusion and Yumichika bit back a powerful oath. His instincts yelled at him to relax, lest he be sorry later, which turned out to be excellent advice. Barragan didn't give him much of a chance to adjust before the Espada began to rut in earnest. Despite the unpleasant, stretched feeling, Yumichika rocked back, feeling it when the Arrancar's balls slapped against his taint. Staying still would only prolong things.

When he did get a glimpse of Soi Fon, her anger had turned to pure shock and disgust as she watched Barragan take him. For a brief moment he lamented not keeping his hair longer, as he had in the Rukongai. Back then he could hide an expression of discomfort behind a curtain of black strands and pretend his grunts were born of pleasure, not pain.

The left hand that had been holding his hips steady suddenly left its post and tangled in his hair, pulling him back until he was practically sitting in his assailant's lap. The new position took away any control he might have had and doubled his discomfort. Regulating his breathing became very important, for both pain mitigation and keeping up the illusion that he was into what Barragan was doing to him. He had to keep that image up, for both his and Soi Fon's sake.

He squirmed as he felt a wet tongue and the brush of a moustache move from his shoulder to the side of his neck. They ended their journey just behind his left ear, at which point teeth nibbled on his earlobe and stale breath assaulted his nose. He wanted to retch, but schooled his features and bit the inside of his cheek.

"You _are_ a pretty fuck toy," Barragan rasped, breathing heavily with his efforts. "I think I will keep you…"

Before Yumichika could think of a response, unexpected pleasure surged through his body. For a moment, he thought the clueless Arrancar had finally stumbled upon his prostate, but the sensation was far too intense for that, and the stuffed feeling that went with it told him something different was taking place. There was little Yumichika could do to stop the low moan that worked its way out of his throat through his clenched teeth and he nearly missed the words half-chortled against his neck.

"…assuming you can survive my power."

More energy rushed into Yumichika, each mind-numbing wave stronger than the last. When it felt as if he could take no more and would burst, it abruptly drained away. He was dimly aware of cumming, the warmth from his release covering his thighs and his lower belly and he hardly registered Barragan's teeth tearing into the skin at the nape of his neck, where his hair would easily hide the marking.

He had never experienced anything remotely like this and couldn't keep his limbs from shaking. The bliss was almost too much; light-headed, Yumichika barely kept from swooning. Large, thick jointed hands kept him upright, but if they weren't there he knew he'd be flat on his face in an unattractive sprawl.

Finally, Barragan let him go, and he collapsed, panting in the aftermath of whatever the hell had just happened. He could feel the dark reiatsu the Hollow had pumped into him mix with his own and encase it. The strands enmeshed him the same way that a spider might wrap a paralyzed bug in a silk cocoon, for later consumption.

"I have found you a suitable residence, your Majesty."

Someone else had joined them and Yumichika blearily looked up to see that Ggio had returned. In contrast, the yellow-eyed fraccion ignored him, not even sparing the naked and ravished Shinigami a glance in his eagerness to convey his good news. In the meantime, Barragan rose to his feet and covered himself.

"Where is it?" he heard the Espada grumble.

"It's in the 1st District, the wealthiest and nearest of the outer neighbourhoods. It belongs to one of the Noble Families, the aristocrats Aizen-Kami described. It's a big place, with high walls and plenty of servants. It will be nothing for us to take it for you."

Barragan made an 'hmph' noise, but nodded. Then he curled his finger at Yumichika in a 'come here' motion.

"It will suffice for now. Rise, pet. Nirgge, Ggio, we have work to do."

Yumichika, to his absolute horror, found he could not disobey the order. His legs pushed his frame into a standing position and his arms sought out his discarded uniform. The fundoshi would take too long to rewind around his hips, so he left it on the ground and donned the rest of it slowly. Now that the euphoria was gone, he could feel every little ache and pain, especially in his knees. His ass also stung, but he'd expected that.

"What about this bitch?" Nirgge asked and shook Soi Fon. She in turn shot an enraged look at the lout that held her and at Barragan. The latter curled his lip as he regarded her.

"Bring the wretched cunt. I will deal with her after we secure our new den."

With that, they set out, Yumichika doing his best to walk despite his wobbly legs, and the disgusting feeling of another's cum running down the back of his thighs. Whatever force moved him, because it certainly wasn't his doing, propelled him forward. Neither fraccion paid him any heed, though Soi Fon kept stealing glances at him. It was hard to tell if there was pity or derision in her eyes and he couldn't really blame her. He'd done what he could to stay in one piece.

All it had cost him was his self-respect and his freedom, neither of which was worth much if one was dead. He could only hope that whatever Barragan had planned for Soi Fon wouldn't leave her too badly damaged if rescuers arrived and that at some point in the near future, he could have a bath, if only to scrub away the filthy feeling that crawled along his perfect skin.

Nor did he think the worst of it was over.

(POV)

It was nothing less than a complete slaughter.

Soi Fon could only watch in helpless rage as Ggio, Nirgge and Yumichika, the last moving as if fighting against invisible chains, cut through the Kyoraku family without mercy. Shunsui had been the strongest in the clan; the remaining family was no match for the Arrancar. The three relatives who mustered enough reiatsu to give Barragan problems met their end at the Espada's hands. If she lived to be a thousand, Soi Fon would forever remember the terror on Yumichika's face as Barragan's power aged his opponents, reducing them to wrinkled flesh and bones before beheading them with his axe. Having seen him in battle, she assumed that the savage display was a message for any survivors, should they ever try to retake the family home, and to the hired help if they sought to aid the remaining Kyoraku clan in doing so. The servants who hadn't already found a hole in which to hide were both quick enough and smart enough to bow to the invaders. Ggio, curse him, had cut down any who tried to flee into the darkness.

It was well past midnight now and she found herself lying face first on the floor of the largest hall in the former Kyoraku estate. A few frightened servants had found a sturdy, Western-style chair and pulled it into the chamber, draping it with silk until it resembled a crude throne. Barragan had parked his stout carcass on its cushioned seat, completing the image of a wannabe-warlord.

The only blessing she could count was that Yumichika wasn't present. After everything he'd been through, including the rape and the forced participation in the slaughter of innocents, he'd gone to his knees, hollow-eyed and spent. A trembling housemaid had led him away to some unknown destination. Soi Fon thought she'd heard the words 'rest' and 'clean him up' spoken at some point, but she couldn't be certain.

Nor did she have a clue as to what weird spell Barragan had cast on the 11th Division's officer, but from the way the bastard had talked earlier, she presumed that at some point, she'd find out for herself. The Taichou refused to think of what had happened to the man as anything other than rape, despite Yumichika's apparent willingness to participate. He'd moved as if on puppet strings afterward, so she considered that whatever had changed him had come about because of the assault. There was no way one of Zaraki's officers would raise a weapon against the weak or unarmed – it was obvious his actions weren't of his own making and that frightened her. She'd much rather face torture or maiming than allow someone else to dictate what she did. Moreover, the thought of Barragan doing the same to her made her sick to her stomach.

The subject of her ire was too busy addressing his flunkies to pay too much attention to her. If only she had both arms. She might be depleted of reiatsu, but there was still a chance she could try to outrun Barragan's Respira. It would be easy enough to hide, but she needed a clear escape route and none of the doors in this particular room opened to the outside.

Leaning one grizzled cheek against his fist, Barragan made a magnanimous sweep of the room

"Nirgge, Ggio, you have served me well this day. You may hunt down pets of your own, if you desire."

"Sire! Thank you!" they shouted in unison. Nirgge bowed and quickly retreated, but Ggio remained in place, a worshipful expression plastered across his face. Soi Fon wished she had enough energy to throw something at him. Barragan, on the other hand, frowned.

"You do not desire a pet, Ggio?"

"Sire, a pet would serve no purpose other than to distract me from my duties. I live to serve you, Your Majesty!"

"So I see. And yet, you _do_ deserve something for your stellar performance in bringing about our Victory." The cruel smile that snaked across Barragan's whiskered mug made Soi Fon want to start crawling away despite her broken arm, especially when his calculating gaze fell on her.

"This bitch deserves what's coming to her as one of the vanquished. There is no greater humiliation than to be Claimed by one weaker than oneself," he laughed and Soi Fon ground her teeth together.

Claimed. There was that term again. Aizen had said something about it earlier and she suspected that Barragan had done it to Yumichika.

"As you have no desire to fill your own slot, I shall reward you by letting you use it on this woman. You may hold her for me, until the worm learns to be silent and knows her place."

Ggio looked over his shoulder at her. She could see he was considering her, the offer and there was more than just a little interest there. Hissing, she pushed herself into a kneeling position with one arm and tried calculate the distance to the door. Nirgge, in his haste to find some poor soul to enslave, had failed to close it completely and she could see a thin sliver of darkness between the jamb and the wooden frame.

"If that is what you desire, I would be honoured."

"Then it's settled. You may take her now. Make certain you do a thorough job and wash that insolent look from her face."

The tiger apparently needed no further prompting. He shed his uniform as he stalked towards her, until he was as naked as Yumichika had been earlier. Soi Fon, knowing that her time was up, struggled to her feet, intending to meet him head-on. Unfortunately, standing coupled with searing pain from her arm and her other injuries caused another bout of lightheadedness. With the loss of orientation came panic and she abandoned the 'fight' option, only to discover that 'flight' was impossible. The Arrancar was on her before she could run.

Without a word, Ggio Vega tore the remains of her _shihakusho_ from her body, using his claws to tear through the fabric. One of his feet swept hers out from under her and once he gripped the bicep of her broken arm she was done. Back on her knees, she felt her fundoshi and her breast bindings ripped away. It was a huge blow to her pride that he overpowered her as easily as he did – in that, Barragan had been correct.

"Let go of me!" she snarled, hating how strained and weak she sounded. His answer involved rolling her onto her belly and using his knees to spread her legs. The Hollow followed Nirgge's example and immobilized her good arm by twisting it behind her back. That left her torso and cheek pressed to the wooden floorboards. When she tried to lash out with her legs, she realized he was already between them.

Her training with the Onmitsukidō had included several lessons on how to repel such an attack by an enemy. A few of those lessons covered methods of escape that presumed the loss of a functional limb or other grievous injury, but there had been no discussions about worst-case scenarios and certainly no mention about Hollows being capable of carrying out sexual assaults. Most of the accumulated knowledge about them focused on how a Shinigami could avoid being eaten, not raped.

Evidently, Soi Fon thought bitterly, there were a few critical holes in the Gotei 13's catalogue of Hollow attributes. The Divisions were about to pay dearly for the oversight and she was about to gain that knowledge firsthand.

Something blunt and warm slipped between her exposed outer folds, sliding slowly up and down her labia and rubbing against her clit until she tried to wriggle away. At first, she thought it was a finger, but when it probed her dry opening she revised her assumption. It withdrew temporarily and she heard the sound of spitting behind her. When the head of Ggio's shaft returned, it slid easily past her inner lips, lubricated by saliva. Soi Fon also heard him sigh and hoist her slender hips upward with his free hand.

"Next time I'll prepare you properly, bitch, when you can't fight me. For now, you can take this as your punishment, on behalf of His Majesty!"

The hand on her hip moved and fingers quickly grabbed a fistful of her hair. He also snapped his pelvis forward and she gasped as he stuffed himself inside her. The gasp turned into a shriek as the head hit her cervix along with a gush of energy, which, to her shame, made his subsequent thrusts much easier.

Things took a turn for the worse after her traitorous body granted him and his bloody reiatsu entrance. Each plunge delivered more of his energy, which was a torment unto itself. Ironically, the pain from her arm helped cut through the burgeoning pleasure, allowing her to analyze exactly what was happening to her while her captor gleefully fucked her.

The minutes rolled on as what turned out to be a lengthy process continued. Part of the blame lay, she thought, in the fact that he wasn't as strong as his master. Had she been at full strength his efforts would have been futile. As it was, she could feel his reiatsu crowding hers, trying to corral it and tie it down. She didn't give up without a fight, and pushed what little of her power was left against his own, vainly trying to keep herself free of the net he a trying to tangle her in.

What Soi Fon really hated was how good it felt and how hard it was to swallow her moans. The last thing she wanted was to give the Arrancar the satisfaction of knowing it affected her, since he seemed the sort to enjoy taunting. Again, her throbbing arm kept her grounded, and helped her resist the orgasm that threatened to shatter her normally ironclad control. The mangy feline behind her was quite happy, based on the number of pleased sounds that accompanied each thrust. Throughout it all, she was aware of the extra set of eyes, watching the proceedings, adding to her degradation.

Fangs finally tore into her neck to complete the Claim and Soi Fon wanted to sob in relief. He'd taken too long and she was more than a little sore. Unlike the monster draped over her back, she hadn't cum but she could now understand why Yumichika had succumbed to it. Briefly, she wondered what it would be like to be Claimed by someone with _real_ power, before tossing the notion aside as absurd. She would never, _ever_ need fulfillment that badly and if she wanted an answer to that question, all she had to do was remember the despair on Yumichika's face earlier that evening.

"Excellent. You will need to Claim her regularly and I expect you to keep her in line." Barragan rose from his chair and gave his follower a significant look. "See to it the bitch is washed and secured with the rest of the dogs. I'll decide how to best use her tomorrow."

Ggio removed himself from her body and stood, grabbing his clothing and hurriedly dressing. Soi Fon sat up with difficulty and cradled her broken arm to her bare breasts. Her stomach roiled from the stench of sex combined with pain and feeling like a worn-out rag. The Arrancar adjusted his collar and snapped at her over his shoulder.

"Let's go."

The blistering retort she'd prepared went unspoken as Ggio's power constricted around her. Soi Fon choked as muscles already pushed past the limits of their endurance hoisted her upright and her legs began moving. Stumbling and swaying with every step, she followed him from the room and out the door through which Nirgge had used. She fancied that even if she lost consciousness, her legs would deliver her wherever her captor wanted her to go.

As it turned out, he'd taken Barragan's order literally. Ggio grabbed the first servant he saw by the front folds of his _yukata_ , pulling the taller Plus down to his level so that he could look the man in the eye.

"Show me to the kennels!"

"What?" she demanded, finally finding her voice. Ggio looked back at her and rolled his eyes at her exclamation, as if he found her protest tiresome.

"Barragan-sama wants you in a kennel. I smelled dogs," and here the Arrancar made a face, "when I scouted this place, so I know they have a kennel. That's where you're going."

"I am pretty sure he was speaking in metaphors," she spat angrily and tried to dig in her heels. It was no use; her unwilling body followed the Arrancar and the servant to a low-roofed building. She could see a series of doors set into the side of the structure, which opened to a set of fenced pens. The glorified shed smelled strongly of canine habitation, though it seemed clean enough. In fact, several of the animals inside began to stir and bark as they came into range.

"Here it is," the servant stammered and motioned to a big man with a protruding belly, who stared at the three from the building's main doorway. "That's Itsuki-san. He's in charge." With that, the retainer fled in the direction they'd come. Soi Fon didn't blame him. She wished she could do the same.

"Is there a place you wash your mutts?" Ggio asked the kennel keeper as he took the opportunity to barge past, craning his neck this way and that. The dogs began howling in earnest, until the Arrancar hissed loudly at them and narrowed his eyes at the pedigreed pack. Itsuki appeared both confused and offended, thanks to Ggio's less than kind description of his high-bred charges, as if 'mutts' was an attack on whatever status he possessed. Thankfully, he also had the sort of sense of self-preservation that could only come from training sharp-toothed beasts. Keeping one eye on the Hollow, he retreated to the back of the building. When he returned, he carried an empty wooden tub.

"I assume you know how to set a bone if one of these mongrels breaks something or bite one another. Scrub her down and fix her arm. You," and here he locked eyes with Soi Fon, who bared her teeth at him, "stay put. You'd better be clean when I come back."

Then he was gone, leaving Soi Fon at the mercy of the kennel keeper, who sighed and picked her up by the waist. He placed her in the middle of the wooden tub and immediately dumped half of the jug of cold water over her head. The resulting icy shock robbed her of breath, until she felt him start to rub her with a soapy rag. That brought about fresh struggles as he left no part unwashed. Thanks to Ggio's order, she was unable to stop him from manhandling her. The only thing she was free to wag was her tongue and she let Itsuki-san know exactly what she thought of the situation. He didn't seem happy about the order either, but he'd probably seen what had happened to the servants who defied the manor's new owners and didn't want to press his luck.

Ggio returned just as the keeper used the second half of the jug to rinse away the soap. The rough towel he used to dry her carried the scent of dog hair and Soi Fon tried not to sneeze. The setting of her arm was harrowing. Itsuki had plopped her on a wooden stool and she was grateful for that small bit of foresight, because when he pushed the two halves of the broken bone into alignment, her legs gave out. The pain was blinding and she gave into the urge to scream while he braced her limb with pieces of wood and tightly-wound fabric. Lesser pains followed as the kennel master rubbed her newly-cleaned wounds with salve from a disreputable-looking box and bandaged them.

By the time he finished with her, Soi Fon was close to passing out. In desperation, she tried to focus on something other than the man's ministrations. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Ggio leaning against the door jamb, holding something white. Once the keeper declared that he was done and her vision cleared, she noticed the Arrancar's cheeks were ashen. He was also absently rubbing his upper arm and flexing his fingers. Soi Fon didn't understand why; he ought to be gloating about her broken arm. Then she decided it didn't matter. His silence suited her.

The bundle he carried turned out to be a white, cotton yukata, the kind worn by prisoners. He threw it at her and she caught it with her good arm. It wasn't exactly adequate protection from the cold, but it was better than nothing. She pulled it on with great difficulty. Itsuki had to help slide one sleeve over her splinted arm, but once that was done he fashioned a sling out of a few clean rags for her. He then directed her to an empty pen and opened the door so that she could crawl into it. While she'd been fumbling with her new clothing, he'd put down a thick layer of clean straw and piled more in the corner. It wasn't much protection from the cold and nothing could disguise the pungent smell of dog urine soaked into the concrete below, but it was better than nothing.

Too tired to do anything else, she collapsed into the scratchy bed and tried to figure out how she would cope with the chilly night air. Her teeth began to chatter and she started to shiver, which wasn't a good sign. Maybe if she could burrow under the straw, she'd stop shaking long enough to curse Ggio, Barragan and Aizen with the foulest profanity she knew.

The thud of footsteps on the floor stopped just outside of the kennel bars. Soi Fon raised her head, preparing to tell whoever it was to fuck off when something heavy landed in the straw near her.

"Here," she heard Ggio say sullenly. "Be ready for tomorrow – His Majesty doesn't like to be kept waiting."

She stared at the blanket for a moment, not quite understanding why he'd given it to her at all. However, another bout of shivering decided things and she reached for it. Pulling it around her shoulders, she lay down again and turned her face to the wall. When she didn't thank him, he huffed and stalked out, presumably back to the main house.

If he thought this was over, she fumed as she hunched further into the blanket, he was mistaken. Soi Fon vowed that she would do everything within her power to cast off the chains with which he'd imprisoned her. Once she was free, she'd make him pay for everything he'd put her through and then some. Whatever and however long it took, she'd find a way to behead and skin the alley cat, using the most torturous method at her disposal.

Then she'd turn his unworthy hide into a rug for her office and use his pelt to warm her feet.

* * *

As usual, I love those that took the time to review. Regrettably, I am suffering the lovely Post Partum Depression. This is about the same time it hit after my son too so yeah for that /sob. I need to go write something fluffy or something, but I am certain that would one of the many signs of the apocalypse.


	3. The Third

The Third

Tia Harribel faced a dilemma after she and her girls delivered the young woman and the two children she'd found in Karakura to the appointed place. Or rather, her dilemma glared defiantly at her while she stood over his recently-healed body.

He was probably wondering what she wanted with him.

That, she thought wryly, made two of them.

The _smart_ thing would have been to let him bleed to death, but Aizen's orders to capture and bring any survivors back alive were absolute. At least now she knew _why_ he'd spared them, as her fellow Espada set about divvying up the defeated Shinigami officers. That knowledge didn't make her decision regarding the boy any easier.

Acquiring a pet had been the last thing on Harribel's agenda, but now that the opportunity presented itself, she found herself weighing the pros and cons of giving Hitsugaya Toshiro a place in her little pack. She _could_ walk away and let another have him, but that felt wrong. Admittedly, the whole reason he was here at all was because she'd failed to kill him, as she had his braided companion, the one with the glasses and the lance. Saving the female Vizard would have been preferable, but by the end of the battle, only the young Captain remained. From the look of things, he wasn't pleased about the development either.

However much his existence represented a stain on Harribel's martial prowess, it also served as testament to his durability. She hadn't achieved her current status by overlooking such qualities, even if they belonged to a male. Allowing someone like Yammy or, Kami forbid, Barragan to take him would be a huge error on her part.

"Mila Rose, Sung Sun, Apachi..." she said quietly and pointed with her chin towards the haggard youth. Three sets of eyes regarded the boy. As amusing as it was to see identical expressions of incredulity on their faces, Harribel detected no outright hostility at the suggestion, though Apachi sidled close and muttered what was likely going through all of the Trés Bestias' heads.

"Mistress, are you certain about this? He's so young!"

"He has a Bankai. He's powerful. He'll be an asset to our pack," she pointed out. Apachi didn't seem convinced.

"I think he wants to bite us."

That was also true, though it wasn't a serious deterrent. His attitude was a bigger problem, but the more Harribel studied him, the stronger her interest in taking him grew. Their battle had already revealed an intriguing fact: she could utilize his Bankai to augment her Resurrección, amplifying _Cascada_ _'_ _s_ range and taking it to deadly new heights. Such an increase might also silence some of the misogynistic fools she dealt with on a regular basis. The idea of turning Barragan Louisenbairn into a freezer-burned lump of meat held real appeal.

The biggest attractant was also a product of their fight, or rather, something she'd sensed the moment they'd crossed weapons. Harribel had acquired her rank as a Vasto Lorde over many centuries, accumulating power with each evolutionary milestone she passed. She knew the extent of her strength in the same way she knew each inch of the mask that covered her face and torso. In contrast, the young man at her feet, for all of his outer displays of accomplishment, still hadn't tapped fully into his vast reservoir of power. It was there, waiting for him and he either didn't realize it was there, or lacked the ability to access it.

She wanted to know why. Taking the steps necessary to stand directly before him, she crossed her arms beneath her chest and peered at him over her collar.

"Come… I Claim you as mine."

The frosty look Toshiro gave her spoke volumes about what he thought of that, and of her, but when she wouldn't back away, his sharp eyes wandered over the others in the courtyard, as if calculating what his chances might be with one of the other Espada. When his face fell, she guessed that he'd reached the right conclusion, which was 'not very well.' Then he sat up and gasped, "Wait! My Fukutaichou! Where…?"

Harribel glanced over to where the busty woman stood, still red-eyed from crying. To her dismay, Nnoitra Gilga was already looming over the blonde, which meant it was too late for the Third to interfere. Aizen had informed them that he'd be displeased if they bickered over Claiming rights. Harribel had gotten to where she was today by knowing which battles to fight and which ones to avoid. As much as she loathed the idea of leaving any woman in that despicable man's hands, she decided to steer clear of this particular scuffle. Disobeying Aizen's edicts was a sure way to bring his wrath down on her head.

"Nnoitra wants her. There is nothing I can do about it now."

At first she thought that he might disregard her, or try to confront the Fifth Espada himself. Then Nnoitra grabbed the long-haired beauty and swept her out of the hall. Second later everyone heard an explosion go off outside. The boy was on his feet, reaching for a weapon that was no longer at his hip and cursed loudly when his hand met with empty hair.

"She's still trying to fight? Who would have thought the cow still had it in her?"

Tact wasn't Mila Rose's strong suit, even if her poorly-worded observation was correct. Harribel placed one hand on Toshiro's shoulder. She then sighed and leaned down until her mouth was level with his ear.

"If she can outrun him, she will have earned her freedom. He can only Claim what he can catch and subdue," she murmured. Harribel didn't really believe the young man's subordinate had much of a chance of evading Nnoitra and she didn't want to give him any false hope, but it prevented him from picking a fight that in his current state might prove fatal. There were too many potential opponents in the room, too many obstacles, and without his weapon he was at a distinct disadvantage. His anger inevitably gave way to despair as he realized just how hopeless the situation was and how few options lay before him.

"Focus on saving the lives you can," she added softly. "Right girls?"

She gently steered him from the room, her fraccion following behind her. Aside from Mila Rose's earlier exclamation, they remained quiet and nodded at their Mistress. Each of them had had unpleasant experiences with males like Nnoitra, and they could tell that Toshiro was obviously close to the woman. In a way, his concern for her helped mitigate their earlier objections.

"Before we go, do any of you want to Claim one of the vanquished?" Her question hung in the air as the three exited the building behind Harribel. The three traded dubious looks with one another and then responded as one, "No, Harribel-sama."

She suspected as much, but it was polite to ask. The Trés Bestias' primary joy came from fighting itself, not in subjugation. Hence the constant arguments. Upon hearing this, Toshiro's shoulders sagged in relief. With that out of the way, the Third gestured towards the south and issued her next command.

"Then let us find a defendable den while we wait for further instructions from Kami-sama."

Aizen had made certain his Espada knew the basics of Soul Society's geography, including the city beyond the Seireitei. She would start with the inner, better Districts and work her way outward until she found the right sort of place. Twenty minutes after leaving the 1st Division, they encountered their first hurdle when they made it to the southernmost gate. Toshiro balked at going through the great portal, pausing just before the threshold. When he refused to budge, she looked down at him, only to find a similarly puzzled look on his face.

"The door is closed. Why are you trying to walk through solid seki-seki stone? That won't work!"

He genuinely believed that the way was barred and it didn't take long for Harribel to work out why. Aizen had to have cast an illusion with his Shikai, one that apparently only affected the Shinigami. Her fraccion had no trouble seeing the open gate. Other Shinigami began to congregate, all wearing equally confused expressions and for a moment, the Espada wondered at Aizen's purpose. The most powerful of the officers had been killed and neutralized. She'd assumed that once their leaders were gone, any resistance would be feeble at best.

A screeching sound overhead interrupted her thoughts and she stared up at the sky. Multiple Garganta opened and Harribel frowned as she put together the rest of Aizen's plan for herself.

"Close your eyes," she told Toshiro. "It's either that, or I'll blindfold you."

He looked back and forth suspiciously between her, the gate and the widening tear in the heavens, but closed his eyes. Grasping his wrist, she led him through the gate and the illusion, not stopping until they were at least four streets and two squares away from the walls.

Harribel didn't approve of what was about to happen. However, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Letting the youth in on what she knew would likely occur would only make him want to go back, to try to help the troops trapped within the Seireitei. Therefore, she made sure that her girls kept going and that her grip on Toshiro's wrist was tight.

Not every Arrancar that came through from Hueco Mundo would take a Claim. Unlike the Espada, they would have to personally overpower their prey. That helped assuage some of the regret that she felt, and even that was short-lived. The strong ruled the weak and did what they wanted to them. That had been the law of Hueco Mundo for far longer than she'd existed and it applied now. Aizen-Kami, being the strongest, would have won the war with or without her help; it wasn't as if her participation was directly linked to the consequences of Aizen's Victory. That was the result of a century of careful planning and strategy, as well as superior firepower. Hollows did not dwell too long on the past, nor did they worry overly long about the fate of the weak. To do so was to risk one's sanity. It wasn't her place to question Aizen's methods with regard to the vanquished.

There was also loyalty to consider. The former Shinigami had given her enough power to protect what was important to her, and had done so under much better terms than she would have had under Barragan. Aizen had proven to be a man of his word in that regard, which boded well for the promises he'd made to her about her other… problem.

It was easier to breathe outside of the walls. Toshiro's pulse raced beneath her fingers, and she pressed her thumb against it. It was too high for her liking. Harribel came to a short stop and indicated to the others that they could proceed on foot. She and her fraccion garnered several odd looks from the citizens they passed, but no one tried to stop them. Perhaps they recognized her as an apex predator, or perhaps they felt she was no danger to them since she was in the presence of a Taichou. Whatever the reason, it allowed her pack to put some distance between themselves and the gate.

In time, the commercial real estate gave way to stately homes in the Japanese style, with gates that were meant to be ornamental, rather than defensive. The buildings blended into the lush vegetation and because of the season, were sometimes hard to pick out from the scarlet and orange maple leaves of the trees that surrounded them. She called a halt in a nearby area dominated by a lake that reflected the bright colors of the sunset to the west. The view was magnificent and she caught Sung Sun 'ooh-ing' over the vista. Ordering her girls to start looking for a suitable den in the neighborhood, Harribel walked to the water's edge, towing Toshiro behind her. The sight of so much liquid, unguarded and free for the drinking or _bathing_ , made her eyes widen in awe. They widened further when she realized the boy next to her didn't have the same reaction. Was he used to such an extravagant display of riches? Did he not understand the value of water?

' _In Hueco Mundo this would be a priceless treasure. Aizen was right_ _…_ _the Soul Society truly is a land of plenty and now it_ _'_ _s ours!_ _'_

Half-an-hour after she'd sent her fraccion to scout the area, the three returned, bright-eyed and excited.

"Harribel-sama, we found the perfect den! Wait until you see it!" Mila Rose exclaimed.

"What do you mean, _we? I_ found it!" Apachi snorted, putting her hands on her hips. Harribel intervened before yet another argument could take root.

"Show me."

"Right this way, Mistress!" Sung Sun pointed down the road with one sleeve-covered hand. "You'll love it! It's bigger than it looks on the outside and it has the most exquisite bath!"

They escorted her to a house on a very shady street, surrounded by overgrown greenery that seemed just a little too grand for a family home. Someone had painted the double gate an inviting scarlet and once inside, Harribel had to agree with Sung Sun. It was much larger than she'd initially thought, since the trees helped hide the size. The fact that it lacked a second story made it seem smaller than the other homes on the street. The layout made her think that it might have once been an inn, or an _onsen_ , since the bath's luxurious sunken tub could easily accommodate eight bathers at a time. The idea of soaking in that much hot water, whenever she wanted, was the very definition of decadence.

Most of it was lost on Toshiro, who barely glanced at all of the amenities her fraccion eagerly pointed out. His only comment turned out to be a sneeze, brought on when Mila Rose opened the pantry, stirring up a cloud of dust.

"It was like this when we found it," Apachi explained when Harribel ran her finger along the kitchen table. The Espada waved away the apology. Undisturbed dust meant the place had been uninhabited for some time and that meant there was no need to get rid of any occupants, a bonus in the Third's opinion. Other than a decent cleaning, their discovery far exceeded her expectations.

"This will do nicely. Good work."

Her fraccion beamed at the praise and she didn't miss the hopeful looks the three shared between them. Harribel supposed that she owed some personal attention for their diligence. They more than deserved a reward for their efforts today, doubly so for finding such a splendid home. However, that could wait until she'd seen to her new pet. She led Toshiro to one of the smaller bedrooms and opened the door. Like the kitchen, dust covered all within, including a rolled futon and two trunks stacked beneath a large window that she hoped contained clean bedding. Motioning him inside, the blonde gave him a warning.

"This will be your room for now. I recommend you get some rest. Aizen-Kami has assumed the Spirit King's powers. He can see all and I cannot guarantee your safety, or the safety of those you care about, should you try to leave."

He didn't respond, though the tense set to his shoulders betrayed his unhappiness. Instead, he moved to the opposite side of the room and stared out of the window. It overlooked the backyard but she didn't think he had it in him to run. The sky was dark, save for an eerie orange glow emanating from the direction of the Seireitei. It had been a long day for all of them and sleep would come easily for her pack tonight. Tomorrow might be a different story, but her girls were smart enough to take advantage of the calm while it lasted.

Closing the door behind her, Harribel walked back down the hall. There were enough rooms for her fraccion not to have to share a space, which was fortunate. They were, by nature, energetic, a trait that she very much enjoyed. Nevertheless, all she wanted to do was find a quiet spot to drink some tea. She found several sealed boxes of loose leaf tea on the pantry's second highest shelf. That lent some weight to her theory that this place had been an inn at some point, catering to Plusses who appreciated the drink. She'd have to send the girls out for food when she deemed it safe. Arrancar might not have to eat on a regular basis, but that wasn't true of Shinigami. Restocking the pantry on a regular basis would be a priority.

Where there was tea, there would be a teapot and she wasn't disappointed. A quick search through the cupboards yielded several tea sets. Harribel found a kettle to heat the water beneath the sink. To her delight, she also uncovered three bottles of unopened saké in a lower cupboard. Tea was soothing, but today's events called for a more fortifying drink.

Turning on the tap, Harribel made sure that the pipes that supplied the house with water were still functional. The faucet sputtered for several minutes and at one point, splattered some evil-smelling gunk into the sink's basin. Thankfully, cold, clear water soon poured forth and while it flushed any long-standing sediment down the drain, she rinsed the kettle. Then she filled it, turned on the stove and hunted up a few rags she hoped were clean enough to wipe the grime from the table.

To her surprise, her fraccion didn't join her in the kitchen. Normally, after such a critical battle, they would be interested in cuddling, which often lead to sex, but tonight they'd chosen sleep over other comforts. Harribel thought that was just as well and smiled to herself. They had done their best today, fought hard and they deserved a respite. As high as her instincts had run, she wasn't particularly interested in sex either and indulging in it now would have distracted her from the task of keeping other Arrancar away from her new holdings.

It didn't take long for the kettle to boil and she spent most of the night gazing out of the kitchen window, drinking her saké-spiked tea. The street just outside the front gate had slowly filled with people, all of them curious about what was going on in the Seireitei and concerned about the smoke. Soon Harribel heard the rhythm of hammers on wood. Some of the locals had started the process of barricading their doors and windows. Others had decided to cut their losses. They carried baskets and bundles of possessions with them as they fled to more distant, poorer Districts seeking safety.

Neither course of action would help them if Aizen allowed the Numeros to pillage beyond the Seireitei's barracks and Division compounds. If they had any reiatsu to their names, they'd be targets.

' _No, that is not quite right. He will let us hunt wherever we please, but he won_ _'_ _t let the carnage itself spread too far. Most of these people are so weak I can barely sense them. Apart from taking dens, there is little point in running the weak to ground._ _'_

Den-taking would account for most of the civilian casualties. Expanding her senses, Harribel noticed that at least sixteen Arrancar, all of the Espada save for Szayelapporo Grantz and several of the Numeros, had moved into the 1st District, though in different directions. Most of the other Hollows were still inside the walls, still laying waste to any resistance the leaderless Shinigami might put up.

Harribel pursed her lips and poured another cup of tea, adding a little more saké to it than she'd added to the last cup. The slaughter and subjugation wouldn't last forever. Maybe, she reasoned, only a day or two and it would be over. Surely Aizen would call an end to things before too long. Her leader had made it clear to his Espada that they were not to exterminate the lesser Shinigami once they'd declawed the top officers and removed the Soutaichou. Even a newly-made god needed people to keep the Realms balanced.

At some point in the early hours of the morning she must have dozed off in her chair. When she woke, she was still sitting at the kitchen table and resting her head on her folded forearms. Outside, the sky had gone from black to a grayish blue as dawn approached, though some of the haziness she could see was probably due to the smoke. She'd been roused from slumber by a telepathic communication from Aizen and she frowned, certain that she much have misheard him.

' _All Taichou-class Shinigami are to be Claimed by noon, or executed. No exceptions._ _'_

Had he been spying on his Espada with his newfound abilities? Harribel found that idea disturbing, but did her best to dismiss her misgivings about the possibility. If so, there was nothing she could do about this new form of surveillance. He hadn't addressed her by name, or called her out, so there might be other Espada who had yet to Claim their pets, especially if their chosen Taichou had been less than healthy.

Orders were orders, however. Harribel rubbed her forehead, picked up the half-empty bottle of alcohol and conducted an inner debate with her better judgment about whether or not to finish it. The thought of having sex with a male wasn't the problem, despite her preference for female companionship. It was his age that left her cold.

' _Alive is better than dead,_ _'_ she thought tiredly. Rising from the chair, the blonde picked up the bottle and went in search of the bathroom. The application of soap and hot water, if there was any to be had, would help clear her head and strengthen her resolve as far as saving her pet. It would also be best to do the deed before her girls woke up and tried to join them. Harribel suspected springing something like that on the boy without warning would break the youthful Taichou, given what she'd seen of his prickly personality.

Toshiro was awake, and she was newly scrubbed when she entered his room. The saké bottle dangling from her fingers. He'd unrolled the futon into the far corner and sat with his back facing the door. A blanket, likely taken from one of the trunks, covered his shoulders, but the shadows beneath his too bright eyes spoke of little sleep. They were fixed on the window and on the smudgy trails of smoke wafting skyward. It wasn't quite daybreak yet, but there was enough light to mitigate the glow from the still-raging fires. Those turquoise orbs darted to her and his shoulders stiffened.

"How many of my Division are dead?" he said flatly. The question was understandable – he'd been a high-ranking leader, after all – but off-putting. It was also one she couldn't answer.

"There's no way of knowing. As I said, if you'd tried to help them or tried to run, Aizen would have cut you down. There is nothing under the sun he cannot see."

Toshiro eyed her with disdain. He also said words that told her he'd come to the same conclusion she had about Aizen's motives.

"He can't kill all of us, unless he wants the Realms to collapse. Not even he will be able to stop it," he said darkly. Harribel's next steps took her to the futon, where she regarded the top of his head before speaking.

"I've received an order, along those lines…"

She held out the saké and twirled it in an invitation for him to take it. He stared at it as if it were a vial of poison. Then he reluctantly plucked it from her hand, though he did not open it.

"A last drink? So he does want us dead. Stupid of him."

This, as well as the sullenness with which he spoke, took her aback. She held up one hand in denial, making certain that it was nowhere near Tiburon's hilt.

"He wants all Taichou-class Shinigami Claimed before noon, or put to death."

Confusion and irritation battled for control of his features at this announcement.

"Wait… didn't you _already_ 'Claim' me?" he asked through clenched teeth. She let out a long breath and folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"In word only. I had planned on waiting until you were older..."

"Older?" Toshiro seemed to find this particularly vexing, because she thought she saw one of his pale brows twitch. "Why the hell would I need to be _older_?"

Harribel suddenly wanted the saké back, to take a swig of some liquid courage.

"Do you understand what a Claim is, why we cast them and how?"

He shook his head and she closed her eyes, lest he see the frustration in them.

"I thought not. You'd best take a drink, Toshiro. It will help."

He gave her a dubious look, but finally pulled the stopper on the bottle. By the time she was done explaining exactly what a Claim entailed, he had polished off what was left in it. It was clear the thought of having sex with her unnerved him, and that he definitely wasn't interested, but she didn't get the impression it had anything to do with her personally.

"You said you wanted to wait to do this."

"True. Taking a child in such a way is…"

"I'm nearly fifty-eight years old! I attained my Bankai nearly twenty years ago!" he snapped, fingers tightening on the bottle.

Toshiro seemed to be angrier at her assumptions about his age, and his short stature, than he was at Aizen's looming death sentence. That he wasn't _technically_ a cub didn't make it any less off-putting. She was aware that Shinigami aged slowly, but even if he was 'legal' by Living World standards, it was still disturbing.

"So, it's either that… or you'll kill me?"

He stared bleakly at the smoke in the distance as he said this and she didn't bother answering what was obviously a rhetorical question. They both knew the answer. After one last swig of the sake, he leaned over and placed the bottle on the floor. Then he removed his uniform and lay back, tight-lipped and with his eyes squarely on the ceiling, displaying all of the enthusiasm of a dead fish.

' _Laying back and thinking of the Soul Society. It_ _'_ _s as if he_ _'_ _s decided he_ _'_ _s a sacrificial lamb._ _'_

In a way, he was. Harribel could accept that, even understand it. Perhaps if she tried to think of him as man of short stature, with a baby face? There had been plenty of diminutive male Adjuchas who would have been ecstatic to bed her over the centuries and power, not age, was the primary consideration. The shadowy memories of her long-ago mortal life reminded her that she'd been in a similar spot once, though for different reasons. Drawing Tiburon, she uttered the phrase for its release – she would need to be in this form, with her mouth free, to complete the Claim.

It was like making love to a wooden doll. Toshiro remained impassively still beneath her, though he opened his mouth in response to her swiping her tongue across his lips. The kiss-in-name-only let her pour her reiatsu into him, which at least started the process. Her left hand helped it along. Between the pleasure derived from the infusion of reiatsu and her skilled fingers, he was soon hard enough for her to mount.

It occurred to her that she could try to use the Claim as a way to accelerate his development. If and when he was able to come into his full power, he'd be a sight to behold. She would have a truly terrifying pack, able to take on Barragan _and_ his rot. She never understood why some souls wore youthful guises for centuries while others aged quickly. Perhaps Szayel might have an answer, but Harribel didn't fancy dealing with the Eighth's slippery double-speak.

For her part, the only attractive things about him was his power. It helped to think of him as a man of short stature, more so when she finally joined with him, moving her hips in a way and deliberately clenching to speed up the process. He barely returned the kiss, though she could tell he swallowed voluntarily. His other choice was to choke on her reiatsu.

The second she felt he'd absorbed enough of her power, she finished the Claim, swallowing a cold draught of his power as she retracted hers. Only now did she get a response from Toshiro as he was forced to climax. The reluctant grunt of pleasure through gritted teeth was hardly an endorsement of her efforts, but it wasn't as if she'd wanted to put him through it. Her release was just as half-hearted. As soon as the loop was complete, she pulled away from him, drawing her legs up beneath her. He was quick to sit up too. They young Taichou stared at his hands, in horror and fascination as her power settled over him like a net.

If there was any benefit to what they'd just done, it was distinctly one-sided. Despair, loss, a smaller amount of disgust and much more hopelessness bombarded her. So did his fatigue, though that at least she could alleviate.

"Get some rest," she said quietly, the new Claim forcing his eyes closed. Harribel sheathed Tiburon immediately, resealing her power. Without dressing, she gathered the combined clothing scattered across the floor and slipped out of the room. Toshiro was asleep before she closed the door.

Was it normal, she wondered, for a male to be so negative about sex? If her dim memories of the Living World and her time there, in the harem of a powerful man were right, the answer was no. The current circumstances notwithstanding, maybe she wasn't his 'type'. If that was the case, any future Claiming might prove easier if he had someone more to his liking to watch. Perhaps one of her fraccion would fit the bill. Maybe if she involved them, to whet his appetite? It was an idea that warranted further thought.

"Good morning, Harribel-sama!"

"I have a task for you, if you are up to it…"

* * *

Toshiro awoke later in the day, around noon judging by the position of the sun. He felt rested, but not necessarily better. Confusion set in when he failed to recognize his surroundings, but soon enough the horrible memories came rushing back. He doubled over, his chest tightening, making it difficult to draw in enough oxygen. When he finally got a decent lungful, it made him cough. Even though the windows were still tightly closed, he could taste the smoke that had drifted out in thick clouds to blanket the inner Districts.

The door opened and he turned to see Harribel, thankfully fully clothed, carrying a spare _shihakusho_ tossed over her arm and a wooden box. When she stepped into the room, a breeze accompanied her. Its chill reminded him that he was still naked. On reflex, he pulled the blanket up to his chin. The despondent thought that doing so was a waste of time, that she'd already seen everything, made him drop it a minute later, the fabric pooling around his hips. Harribel cleared her throat and her eyes caught his. It was hard to read her with her collar concealing everything, but that steady green gaze didn't seem angry.

"There is food and tea in the dining room. Get dressed and join us. I sent my girls to see what they could salvage from your office, but the building was already on fire and I am afraid this was all they could find," she told him, sounding almost apologetic. When he didn't answer, Harribel moved quietly to his side and placed the items on the futon. She then turned on her heel and left.

He didn't recognize the box, so they must have found it elsewhere. Forgoing the clothing, he reached for it and lifted the lid. Only two of the things, out of all of the inconsequential knickknacks inside meant anything to him. The first was a picture of Hinamori he'd kept hidden in his top desk drawer. Deep grief stabbed him in the gut as he recalled exactly how she'd died, how he'd unwittingly pierced her heart with Hyorinmaru while under Kyoka Suigetsu's influence. Kira, Hisagi and Komamura had followed shortly, their lives ending on Aizen's blade. He'd been unable to save any of them.

The other item was a green scarf. It had been a gift from his grandmother. The old woman had sent a new one to him every year, as a New Year's present. This had been the last one he'd received before she'd passed on to a new life in the Living World. He'd kept it tucked away for its sentimental value. Maybe it was fitting that this was the only one of that collection to survive the fires.

Apart from those two things, there was nothing else worth keeping. At the bottom of the box he found another scarf, this one made of pink silk. This he recognized as one of Rangiku's accessories. She'd probably left it in his office after one of her frequent drinking binges. The object was enough to remind him he'd let her down. For all of her faults, she was still his Fukutaichou and he cared for her, for she had done much for him over the years as well, in her own, unique way.

Briefly, Toshiro wondered whom he'd failed the most, Hinamori or Rangiku. He'd seen the look on Nnoitra's sneering face and had no doubt that the man had less than honourable intentions towards her. He worried about Ichigo's sisters as well. Both were far too young to be a part of this nightmare and the thought of either girl being raped by the man that had taken them was horrific and sickening. They were eleven, maybe twelve years old at most. Worse, the creature that had them was the one leading the Arrancar who had invaded Karakura the first time and nearly killed Kurosaki Ichigo. He didn't think that boded well for them.

He felt a gentle pull on his Claim, subtle, but insistent. Sighing, he set everything aside and picked up the _shihakusho_. Then he pulled the blanket around his shoulders, turning it into a makeshift robe and did his best to remember where the bath was located. One shower and a clean uniform later and he felt marginally better, which wasn't saying very much.

Toshiro followed the scent of tea and steaming rice to what he assumed was the right room, a much larger chamber attached to the kitchen. Harribel presided at the head of a western-style table, while her fraccion bantered with one another. Someone had set out white sticky rice for five people. Bowls of pork broth, vegetables and a plate of pickled plums made up the rest of the odd meal.

"Sit, eat," Harribel directed, gesturing at the chair placed before the lone, unused setting. With no other option, Toshiro did so, but did his best to discreetly inch his chair and his dinnerware away from them, reluctantly picking up his chopsticks. He also did his best to ignore the squabbling, a task made easier by his hunger. The first bite prompted another, and then another. He hadn't realized how famished he was until he looked down at his plate, then at what was once a full bowl of rice and found both completely empty. That didn't last long; Sung Sun reached over, whisked his bowl away and filled it with another helping of rice, rounding off the top with the serving spoon. He used the opportunity to ask Harribel a question.

"The Espada who took Kurosaki's sisters… Grim-something…"

Harribel raised one golden eyebrow, but went ahead and supplied a name for him.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. He's the Sixth. What of him?"

"How will he treat them?"

The Third laced her fingers together and Toshiro regretted how anxious he sounded about his one-time soccer partner.

"He won't Claim them, at least, not until they are older," Harribel assured him gently, her gaze softening. "We do not have many taboos, but raping a child is one of them."

Sung Sun nodded sagely, though her next words did nothing to ease his worries for them.

"I think I heard the word 'bait' mentioned."

Apachi reached over the table and patted his forearm, grinning at him when he snatched his arm away. She also ignored his affronted expression.

"Don't worry. Grimmjow will sleep with anything that moves, if he thinks it's interested, but to my knowledge, he's not one to force himself on another. He'd rather fight them!"

"They should be safe enough," Harribel said and from her tone, he gleaned that she considered the matter closed.

Toshiro ducked his head and after a moment's deliberation, began to eat as if his life depended on it and demanding a third helping. Her earlier advice, to save the ones he could, rang true, which he found odd, coming from a Hollow. To do that, he'd need to become stronger… much stronger, to defy his currently sordid fate and break free of the encircling energy that bound him.

If… no, when he managed to do that, and took back Hyorinmaru, he'd make certain to serve up his revenge not just cold, but with all of the wintry rage he could muster. Nothing, not this Espada, nor her minions or Aizen himself would stop him.

* * *

As usual, that you to the few who took the time to review. Next chapter we got to number four, which is actually, shockingly, a sexless chapter. Stay tuned.


	4. The Fourth

The Fourth

When he'd taken Inoue Orihime as his, he had no idea that she would have so much baggage.

At present, that baggage had her arms around his pet and between the tears, the dripping noses and more tears, they'd made a mess of their clothing. Watching his property wipe away snot with what was left of her dress, only to have the other, dark-haired human offer her sleeve in lieu of a handkerchief was… disquieting.

Negativity was something with which he was intimately familiar. This was quite different and he had little idea of how to process it. She didn't give him much time to sit back and analyze it before it slammed into him. The heady mix of feelings that bombarded him as Orihime connected with someone she'd feared dead was quite intoxicating. Yes, he considered, 'intoxicating' was a good label. Ulquiorra hesitated to call it 'pleasure' but he did not dislike it, nor would he be adverse if she kept at it. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, least of all himself. This 'Tatsuki' seemed to care deeply for Orihime and he'd already seen what the isolation of Hueco Mundo had done to his pet's spirit.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to ponder the mystery of Orihime's confounding psyche. The Soul Society had yet to be fully subdued and Ulquiorra expected Aizen-kami would command him to help cement the ex-Shinigami's hold on the Realm in the days to come. That meant he'd be away from his pet for long periods. Taking the other human woman as a companion for Orihime seemed not only like a good idea, but also an inevitability. Watching them interact, he suspected that the only way to dispose of Arisawa Tatsuki would involve killing her. Such an action would only upset Orihime further, so he discarded the notion.

Of course, he had other motives. If he truly wanted to investigate this 'heart' thing she kept going on and on about, he would need to find new ways to stimulate it, which was best achieved by stimulating _her_. Some he knew, such as despair and anger, but others, such as joy and grief, made little sense to him. His pet experienced them under circumstances during which a Hollow would have shrugged and moved on. The concept of 'heart' seemed inexplicably intertwined with her positive emotions and their outward expression. If proximity to a cherished friend helped kindle those, the other human was a necessary annoyance. Thus, when he ordered Orihime to come with him, he did not discourage Tatsuki from tagging along.

Starrk had already left the hall with the officers he'd chosen and Ulquiorra didn't linger too long after the First. He ordered them to follow him. Orihime fell in step behind him, still holding Tatsuki's hand. In this manner he got them out of the 1st Division and eventually, past the Seireitei's gate. The girls talked quietly the entire way, interspersed with some snuffling and tears. Orihime's embarrassment-laden emotions indicated that her friend had initiated a thorough interrogation, a process that also incurred more than a small amount of guilt on his pet's part. He didn't understand why she would feel that way; Aizen had given her leave to tell one person of her departure from the Living World and she'd chosen Kurosaki instead of Arisawa. She'd violated some sort of protocol in doing so – hence the guilt. Ulquiorra thought worrying over what was the equivalent of spilled milk a waste of her time.

That being said, he had some immediate decisions to make. His first priority was to obtain a den here. It would be best to avoid any too-large or too-fancy dwellings. Ostentatiousness encouraged raids and competition from other Arrancar. A place that blended into the landscape and could camouflage what he'd stored within it would be a much better choice.

It took a bit of searching, but eventually he discovered a section of streets in the 1st District where all the houses looked like carbon copies of each other. The only differences were small, personal touches to the exteriors, such as the paint color or the type of shrubbery in the landscaping. This was exactly the sort of neighborhood Ulquiorra had envisioned. He picked a house at random and ordered Orihime to stay where she was until he called for her. She looked worriedly at him, but in the end nodded. Such a gesture on her part had little meaning – it wasn't as if she could disobey him. Tatsuki frowned, but remained by Orihime's side and attempted to keep her talking about some trivial thing that held no interest to him.

The eviction of the den's occupants was quite easy. Ulquiorra walked through the front door, not bothering to knock. The startled inhabitants, a middle-aged man and woman, stared at him as he entered their abode, and then tried to rise as they realized they were under attack. The Espada sent quick Bala at them. The blast ensured they never had a chance to scream, though a few of the furnishings suffered from the fallout.

He wasn't going to take any chances; leaving rivals for his living space would have been foolish. The displaced had a tendency to try to retake dens and he had no interest in bickering with trash. A quick trip out the back door with the bodies and another Bala solved the matter. Leaving them to rot would have drawn unwanted attention and their carcasses were not worth consuming. Thankfully there were no other claimants to the property and once he was satisfied the place was safe, he retrieved his humans.

"This is our new den. You will not leave the property unless I give you permission."

Tatsuki promptly glared at him the moment he uttered the mandate.

"Why?" she demanded and put her hands on her hips. Orihime drew back in alarm, though he sensed she was afraid her friend might attack him. If Tatsuki had been a Shinigami, or if she had enough power for Ulquiorra to consider her dangerous, he would have disciplined her on principle. As it was, he needed her intact, so he fixed his green eyes on the scowling girl and swept a hand towards the Seireitei and the mess going on inside the walls.

"Do you want others to hunt you?" he asked, speaking to her as if she had a mental deficiency. For all he knew, her inability to understand what was happening around them qualified as such. "You aren't strong enough for me to Claim, so I won't bother expending the energy. Without a Claim on you, you will be considered fair game. Secondly the Numeros aren't picky. I've not yet put out word that you belong to me and they might mistake you for a meal."

"That's okay, Tatsuki-chan," Orihime placed a hand on the woman's upper arm before the woman could think up a retort. "I haven't eaten in a while. Let's check out the kitchen," she suggested. Her friend's eyes narrowed, but eventually she reached up and covered Orihime's fingers with hers. Ulquiorra took the grudging concession she spat at him as a sign she'd only shelved her anger with him, rather than letting it go.

"Fine. I'm starving too. Let's see if there's anything to eat."

That was one nice thing about a stocked den. It made feeding those who needed to eat much easier. Orihime had complained once about the blandness of the food he'd brought to her in Hueco Mundo. Hopefully, with a female companion and the ability to cook for herself, unappetizing fare and her accompanying lack of interest in eating would be a thing of the past. He could, of course, force her to eat, but that would get tedious and might unbalance her mind again. That was not his goal here.

He melded into the shadows as he watched the two girls ransack the kitchen to see what supplies they had to work with and decide what to prepare for dinner. He felt the tension slowly fade from Orihime as her and her childhood friend talked about mundane things while pulling cookware from a lower cabinet and filling the tea kettle. It was replaced by a feeling he'd never experienced before, one so strange he had no word for it. He almost broke his 'cover' by asking her about her state of mind at that precise moment, for this feeling was quickly becoming addicting.

The girls finished cooking their meal and went about setting the table. He felt a moment of confusion as Orihime set out three settings instead of two, followed by surprise as she called out to him that 'dinner was ready.' He toyed with the idea of ignoring her, for he had no desire to consume anything, but in the end curiosity got the better of him and he joined them. Tatsuki bristled when he sat down, but Orihime tentatively smiled as he reached for his napkin, pleased that he had done what she'd asked of him.

' _How very odd._ _'_

"We never got the chance for real introductions," Orihime declared as she placed scoops of sticky white rice in the first bowl. "Tatsuki-chan, this is Ulquiorra Cifer, Quarto Espada. Ulquiorra-san, this is Arisawa Tatsuki. We have been friends ever since we were little kids. We went to elementary school together too!"

Ulquiorra wondered if that was where the brunette had learned to scowl, since she did so every time she looked at him. Faced with hostility radiating from the other side of the table, he concentrated on his meal. This turned out to be a less-than-stellar idea. He recognized the rice below the riot of colourful ingredients, but picking out the individual ingredients in the repellent dish was more than he wanted to take on at present. A glance at Tatsuki told him that she wasn't exactly happy with what was on her plate either. Orihime obviously relished her meal, shovelling bites into her mouth with her chopsticks. She only paused when she tried to get some sort of table-wide conversation going, but aside from a shared interest in her, there was just nothing that either he or Tatsuki had in common that would warrant a detailed discussion. He had little desire to indulge in pointless chatter and after ten minutes of such attempts, he finally put a stop to it.

"Onna, cease trying to get your friend and me to communicate. Your attempts will fail. Instead, you may speak exclusively with your companion."

"Oh, okay." Orihime's face fell and he felt a small flash of hurt come from her, but she did as instructed. He used the distraction to slip away from the table. After discreetly emptying the noxiousness on his plate into the waste bin beneath the sink, he decided to conduct a closer inspection of the rooms on the far side of the house.

One was clearly a bedroom and the other looked as if it was a bedroom-turned-storage room. Rummaging through the latter chamber, he came upon a spare futon and blankets. They were a bit musty-smelling, but undamaged. The previous owners had probably reserved those for guests. Tatsuki could have this room. When he returned to the kitchen, the girls had finished eating. Orihime had decided to scrub dishes and Tatsuki had her arms full of condiment bottles, placing them in various spots in the refrigerator.

"It is late. We will adjourn for the evening."

His announcement made his pet stop in mid-scrub.

"I would like to stay up a bit later with Tatsuki-chan," Orihime protested meekly, and he started to feel the first stirrings of fear from her.

"It is late," he said once more, "and you will have all of tomorrow, and many more days to come, to indulge in gossip."

Once the kitchen was clean, he pointed Tatsuki to the guest room and turned to usher Orihime into the room that he had chosen for their personal use. For a moment it looked as if there would be an argument over the sleeping arrangements, but Orihime diffused the situation by smiling warmly at her friend, presenting her with one of those clingy hugs and promising that they would talk the 'very first thing tomorrow'. Ulquiorra could tell from Tatsuki's expression that the human girl wasn't fooled or mollified, but she did nothing more than huff and take her leave, sliding the spare room's door shut a little harder than the Espada thought necessary.

Orihime hesitated as he walked into their room and began preparations for bed. There was no sword rack, so he leaned Murciélago against the wall and propped it up with a low chest he dragged from beneath the window. It was only for one night and he could easily fix the issue in the morning. He felt Orihime's apprehension grow as he began to remove his uniform.

"You are not undressing, Onna," he noted as he folded his shirt before going to the belt holding up his hakama.

"Are…" She swallowed nervously and obviously forced herself to continue. "Are you going to rape me again?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

He frowned at her question and finished removing his hakama before turning to face her.

"I did not rape you," he stated, correcting her. "I Claimed you, as is my right as the Victor."

"Did you force me to have sex against my will?"

"Your willingness in the act is not important. I won, so I took what I earned."

"You didn't answer the question."

"If you were unwilling, that was your own prerogative. Most females would be pleased to be Claimed by one as powerful as I am."

He could feel frustration start to come through now, but he wasn't positive if it was from him or her. Why was this simple concept so difficult for her to understand? He fought Kurosaki. He won and had beaten Kurosaki to a pulp. They'd fought over her and his win entitled him to take her as the spoils. Why was such a _basic_ concept so difficult for her to grasp?

"To humans, it is a crime to force someone to have sex with them when they don't want it."

"I am not human," he pointed out as if it should be obvious. "Human laws do not apply to my kind."

Her mouth opened, then closed and a few minutes later, she sighed. She chose not to meet his eyes, and wrapped her arms around her upper body.

"Why did you Claim me?" she asked in a whisper. There was the unhappiness again.

"It was my right," he responded, idly wondering if he would have to spell this out for her every night. He was tired and had no wish to debate what should have been plain to her. "We will speak no further on this matter. Undress and come to bed."

His order, issued in tandem with his shrugging off the final piece of his uniform, did a number on her nerves. While she was mortified at watching him disrobe, her fingers rose to undo the hidden buttons on the side of her tattered clothing. Ulquiorra had no idea why she felt embarrassed, unless it was because she was still wearing the long white jacket given to her by Aizen. The sleeves were as torn as they were yesterday, when he'd Claimed her. She didn't seem the vain sort, so the state of her clothes wasn't the problem. There were no visible blemishes on her body and he'd seen almost all of her at this point. In the end, he chalked her reaction up to 'human insecurity and weakness' and crawled beneath the sheets. He could still smell the house's former occupants on them and decided that he'd order Arisawa to launder the bedding tomorrow.

When Orihime continued to dither, he used the Claim to speed things up and her join him. He even gave her the side of the bed facing the wall. If anything came through the door, they would have to go through him to get to her.

She repaid his thoughtful gesture with a healthy dollop of fear. Her breathing changed, becoming erratic. Clutching as much of the blankets against her as possible, she scooted to the corner of the bed farthest from him and curled up. The girl's eyes remained stubbornly open, as if she expected him to attack her.

Ulquiorra was far too tired for this nonsense, tired of her skittishness and tired of trying to keep his eyes open.

"Go to sleep," he snapped after ten minutes of her fear rubbing a hole in his psyche and her trembling shaking the mattress. He felt a stab of surprise, which faded slowly into a drowsy peace as her eyelids closed. Her vigilance crumbled under the weight of impending slumber and he sighed in relief when her head fell against the closest pillow. Once she was no longer a stressor, he let his reiatsu expand to encompass the house, the yard and all within it. His subconscious could maintain it while he took some well-deserved time to recharge.

He deliberately ignored the distant sound of mayhem, of Ceros and fire and explosions. None of the other Espada, based on their temperament, would want to settle in such a pedestrian place, and the Numeros weren't stupid enough to try to dislodge him. Sleep, however, proved elusive. How could a human's moods swing from one extreme to another, from overwhelming happiness to the depths of sorrow and back again, all in the space of a few seconds?

It was dizzying, simply dizzying and yet…

' _She is as intriguing as she is exasperating,_ _'_ he thought. His study of her might not prove as simple and straightforward as he'd hoped, but tomorrow would afford another opportunity to experience those unfamiliar sensations. Surely, Orihime and the baggage she'd dragged with her would provide them.

According to Orihime, hearts were real. They were things, nouns as substantial as persons or places. They were quantifiable, measurable. One could weigh them and get an exact reading and once he did, he could dissect, analyze and render a verdict.

He only needed to wait and observe.

* * *

Next up, the fifth, obviously. Thank you to the few who took the time to review. I know this chapter was a little short, but I didn't want to miss anyone out and Orihime already had her Claiming scene. Also, every chapter with rape in it does get a bit tedious to read. That was the only down side to doing all the Claiming chapters first, but I want to try and keep a somewhat consistent timeline with this.


	5. The Fifth

The Fifth

Nnoitra Gilga watched Aizen leave with the two Shinigami he'd taken as prizes and for a second, felt something akin to pity for the more damaged of them. He wouldn't want to trade places with Ichimaru Gin at present. The fox-faced idiot ought to have known better. The Fifth Espada could only imagine what their leader might do to a traitor who had been with him since the beginning. Aizen had always been more than willing to make explicit examples of those Arrancar who had defied him or questioned him. Why Gin thought he might get away with it was anyone's guess.

' _I doubt he_ _'_ _ll still have that grin in an hour._ _'_

A shrug accompanied his assessment of the man's prospects. Nnoitra had better things to ponder… such as which of the powerful-but-defeated Shinigami in the hall would get the privilege of having him as a Master. Unfortunately, most of those who had yet to be Claimed were male, and Nnoitra wasn't into buggery.

Well…maybe he would have made an exception if the one called Kenpachi had been available, just so he could fight the fiend all-out whenever the urge hit. Sadly, the massive one-eyed Taichou and his pipsqueak sidekick were still unaccounted for, leaving Nnoitra to survey the remaining women in the hall.

There were the Kurosaki brats, but he quickly abandoned the idea of taking them when he saw Grimmjow stride in their direction. As tempting as it would be to use the girls to draw out their older brother, he loathed babysitting. Moreover, the thought of sleeping with children left him utterly cold. He had standards, after all.

' _I_ _'_ _ve already put in my time with Tesra. If the Sixth wants to wipe noses and listen to cubs mewl and whine nonstop, let him._ _'_

The next two, Inoue Orihime and her friend, weren't available either. The sneaky flying rat had already Claimed the first human and the second held no appeal. She was too scrawny, she barely registered when it came to spiritual power and her chest was so flat that without the torn skirt, he would have mistaken her for a messy-haired boy. The young women clung to one another as if someone had glued them together. Ulquiorra would probably end up with her too. Nnoitra knew a lost cause when he saw one and moved on.

The shrimp with the broken arm was next in line and this one left him conflicted. She was injured and had mosquito bites instead of breasts, but _she_ had some real power. Unfortunately, that was all she had going for her and once again, a potential fight loomed. One didn't cross Barragan Louisenbairn without good reason and in Nnoitra's opinion the damaged goods weren't worth the trouble. Her size and her build were turn-offs too.

That left one female, the tart that had been sniveling all over the turncoat. In fact, she was still crying, her reddened eyes locked on the door through which Aizen had dragged him, to the exclusion of anything else.

' _Now, this is more like it,_ _'_ Nnoitra thought and unconsciously rubbed his hands together. This beauty more than made up for the otherwise slim pickings. She had big blue eyes, a spectacular figure and long, wavy red-gold hair. Her cheeks were flushed from weeping, but it didn't take much for him to envision her blushing for a different reason. Nor was it hard to go from that to picturing her wearing form-fitting white instead of a torn, black, blood-splattered _shihakusho_. His subconscious went further, painting her tresses a brilliant turquoise…

That decided it. He felt his cock stir and harden, and he licked his lips in anticipation.

He _had_ to have her.

So far, no one else had spared her a second glance and if he had his way, no one else would. He sauntered over to her crouched figure, Tesra trailing behind him like a ghost.

"Well, hello there!"

It took him looming over her and addressing her before she registered his presence. When she looked up he could see a heady mixture of grief and anger in her pretty eyes. They strayed from him to the spot behind him, where Harribel and her girls had surrounded some kid with hair that matched his white haori, then back to him.

"What do you want?" she demanded as she rose to her feet and squared her shoulders. His height forced her to look up at him, but she didn't back away.

Nnoitra liked the fact she had some bite to her; breaking her of it would be great fun. From this angle he could also ogle her cleavage and spent a few minutes planning exactly how he would bury his face between those perfect melons. If he wasn't mistaken, he was sure he caught a whiff of perfume wafting up from her skin, half-hidden beneath the smell of smoke and blood.

"And here I thought this Victory party was going to be boring! Guess there _is_ something around here worth fucking after all," he laughed.

Her face twisted in disgust at this and she stepped back into a defensive position, which only amused and aroused him further. Even if she hadn't been roughed up, he could tell that she wasn't as powerful as he was, though she was hardly a weakling. The only one who might put up a fight for her was Harribel. Thankfully, the Third was too busy sizing up the teenager to notice. The room was starting to clear out too, save for one group that showed no sign of leaving. Out of the corner of one eye, Nnoitra spied Barragan feeling up an effeminate pretty-boy from behind. From the look of things, the Second and that ugly cuss Nirgge were going to roger their prizes right then and there.

The thought of watching the skeleton publicly porking anyone was enough to make Nnoitra's stomach churn and his libido falter. He needed a change in scenery. Moreover, this bitch looked as if she wanted to tear him a new one. Teaching her the error of her ways would be best done outside.

Without preamble, his right arm shot out and he grasped her bicep, startling her. Nnoitra intended to steer her though the nearest door and well out of view of Barragan's troupe before the old bastard dropped his drawers. What he hadn't taken into account was her reflexes. He had just manoeuvred her into the 1st Division's main courtyard when the woman muttered what sounded like esoteric poetry and twisted in his grip. Her hand suddenly appeared directly before his face and before he could dodge it, a ball of fire exploded inches from his nose. He let go of her arm, more out of surprise than pain, and she took the opportunity to run.

Ah, so she wanted to turn this into a hunt… that was fine with him. She'd charred his uniform and his collar was still smoking, so Nnoitra would give her a few points for quick thinking. Not that it would do her much good. Her scent lingered in his nose, making his mouth water. One of the members of Harribel's bimbo brigade had boasted of 'putting that cow in her place' on the way into the hall, so she was probably running on fumes. All he had to do was follow and bring her to heel when the need to rest overcame her.

"Keep up, Tesra," he growled and took off after her. The wench wasn't quite capable of moving at high speed at present, so there was no need for him to use Sonido yet. Her only advantage was that she knew the terrain. It was up to him to make sure she didn't escape.

The Fifth didn't want to waste too much time, so when he caught sight of her, trying to take refuge in one of the 1st Division's look-alike alleyways, he put an end to things with a well-placed Cero. The ball of energy tore through the wall ahead of her, by about twenty paces.

She threw her arms up to ward off the bits of concrete that rained down on her and Nnoitra heard her shriek through the smoke and dust caused by the explosion. Then he heard her start coughing, the sound getting louder as he approached. Swinging _Santa Teresa_ around, he sank the blade into one of the paving stones, piercing the thick brick as if it were putty, and took two steps towards her while she was distracted. She immediately took two steps back, trying to get away from both him and the choking cloud. Her defensive stance was the same as before.

"Nnoitra Gilga, Quinto Espada," he introduced himself, his posture completely relaxed as he looked her up and down, double-checking to see if his first assessment had been too generous. She looked even better under natural light, even if she was covered in a fine gray grit.

"Matsumoto Rangiku, Fukutaichou of the 10th Division," she responded automatically and coughed again. Her hands, he noted, never wavered. Without her blade, she was limited to those feeble excuses for Ceros.

"Not anymore. Come morning, there won't be anything left inside the walls, unless Aizen-kami wants to keep it," he snorted. Then he pointed at his crotch. "As for you, your job is to make my cock happy… oh, and maybe make me breakfast, _if_ you can cook."

She looked absolutely furious at this. Nnoitra was fine with that reaction. At least it wasn't cold disdain, or blunt indifference. He'd struck a nerve and couldn't wait to do it again.

"I would rather die!"

Another fireball followed on the heels of her snarled declaration. Nnoitra didn't bother to dodge it, letting the destructive energy skitter harmlessly across his Hierro. The remnants fizzled out when they hit the pavement behind him. Laughing it off, he waited until she'd expended more of her precious resources. One, two, three more carefully aimed attacks came to nothing more than damage to the surrounding tiled roofs and walls and some charred clothing.

"I like your version of foreplay!" he laughed. Desperation crept into her eyes, which darted this way and that, looking for an escape route once she figured out that her only offensive weapon was useless. Nnoitra could smell the fear oozing from her. He was rock hard and salivating. _Nothing_ turned him on more than a battle. The fact he was about to win one by getting her beneath him was the perfect aphrodisiac.

"Matsumoto-Fukutaichou!"

The only downside involved the annoying buzzing of pesky, interfering flies. Several Shinigami with the kanji for the numeral '1' stencilled on them had evidently seen the Cero go off and had come to investigate. Their sandaled feet thundered down the alley and Nnoitra's lip curled in irritation. All of the idiots had their blades out and seemed intent on rescuing the woman. A quick jerk of his head sent a message to his underling.

"Tesra, deal with 'em while I finish this."

"Yes sir!"

Tesra shot past him, his weapon drawn, but it wasn't as if his fraccion really needed it. He moved in a blitz of spare, lethal moves that made the most of the tight quarters. The majority of them died in a spray of blood, but once Nnoitra flared his considerable reiatsu, the would-be saviours scattered. The few who hadn't taken a slash to the neck scrambled for safety and Tesra, with no orders to the contrary, went after them. If it was one thing the Espada had impressed on the piglet over the years, it was to always clean the scraps from one's plate.

In the end, Tesra's attack on the Shinigami squad worked in Nnoitra's favour. Rangiku, seeing what was about to happen, tried to intercept the fraccion. Maybe she thought she could save the pathetic twits from a well-deserved death. Maybe she thought they weren't already dead men walking. The woman foolishly turned away from him in an attempt to charge Tesra, which gave the Fifth the opening he needed. His long arm shot out, grasping the back of her uniform and he pulled hard. Her forward momentum, coupled with the grip he had on the fabric, resulted in the near-removal of her outer and inner kosode. Her arms remained in their sleeves, but her upper body was jerked back and her breasts and shoulders popped free of the upper half of her uniform. A second jerk stopped her and she tottered backwards, losing her equilibrium. Nnoitra's third jerk took her off of her feet. She reeled against him, her back slamming into his chest and her loose hair falling into her face, which obscured the Espada's fist as it connected with her temple.

He'd pulled the blow just enough to keep from damaging her skull, but the strike did what he intended. She reeled to one side, eyes still open. For good measure, he drew his fist back again and struck her in the solar plexus, forcing the air out of her lungs. Rangiku's legs failed her and she crumpled, though she didn't hit the ground. Nnoitra caught his half-naked prize around the midsection and hoisted her over his shoulder. He could feel it when her breasts came into contact with his ribcage and shifted until he'd grabbed enough of her uniform to keep her arms bound.

Unfortunately, he couldn't guarantee that she'd stay like this for long. Whistling loudly, Nnoitra summoned Tesra to him. His red-splattered fraccion showed up a few minutes later, using the remains of a dead Shinigami's uniform to clean the blood from _Verruga_.

"I've done away with the obstacles, as you ordered, sir."

Nnoitra pulled his weapon from the stone with one hand. Sheathing it, he took to the air to locate the closest gate in the Seireitei's walls.

"Time to pick a new den, runt. Let's go."

It was a good time to leave. While he'd been busy tracking the woman, Aizen had let in the Arrancar he'd held in reserve. The Numeros had wasted no time in scattering the leaderless Shinigami and the city was quickly dissolving into chaos, which they observed as they made their way south. The simultaneous use of Ceros, Balas, Kido, and various Zanpakuto releases had turned parts of the Seireitei into infernos, the fires racing through the paper and wood buildings until they ran into a wall or something made of stone. The terrified screams of the dying and wounded, most of them men, serenaded them from below and Nnoitra's already toothy smile nearly split his face. This was the _perfect_ music, in his opinion and it was only made better by the weeping and the wailing of female Shinigami who had been beaten or caught. Looking down, he saw more than a few of them on their hands and knees, minus their clothing, an Arrancar holding them in place while fucking them soundly. Others had been raped and discarded, left to lie naked and covered in cum. That told him the lower-ranked Hollows were testing the waters before picking a permanent pet and that he'd better Claim what he wanted quickly.

"Through here, Nnoitra-sama!"

Tesra pointed at the huge gate set into the high walls and the drama playing out just inside them. Bodies were beginning to pile up on either side and more amusingly, just at the threshold of the wide-open entrance. At least five of the Numeros had staked out the egress point and were busy picking off Shinigami as they scrambled around like blind rabbits. The few who had made it past the gauntlet of Cero-fire beat at the open air as if they had no idea the way was open. Nnoitra curled his lip at them as he and Tesra cleared the gate with the unconscious Rangiku.

Finding a den wasn't terribly hard; there were so many houses to choose from that Nnoitra eventually let Tesra decide on something. His fraccion eventually settled on a two-story number with a painted wooden fence surrounding it, tall trees that shaded it on the south side and a back garden with a grassy area and a fountain. It appeared sturdy enough, so Nnoitra gave Tesra the go-ahead to clear out the inhabitants while he saw to the morsel beginning to stir on his shoulder.

Nnoitra's blood was up by the time he touched down on the grass and let the woman he carried fall to the ground. She was still somewhat out of it, but her head would clear soon enough and he had no more patience. Rolling her on her belly, he straddled her hips and shoved both of her loose kosodes over her head, tying her hands together. Then he skewered the cloth with _Santa Theresa_ , sinking the weapon's blade deep into the ground while avoiding her hands. She was going to need her fingers and there was no reason to ruin a perfectly good pet right off the bat. After that, he only had to tear away her _hakama_ and _fundoshi_ , shredding them with his claws and pushed her legs far enough apart to kneel between them.

He could tell when she finally came to, because she groaned when he ran his hands up and down her sides and reached around to take both of her breasts.

"What… what are… you doing? Let… let me…go…"

"Oh yes," he moaned against her neck as he sank his fingers into one plump mound. She attempted to flinch from the contact, but couldn't wriggle free. "I am going to enjoy _every_ minute of this."

"Bastard!" she snarled, more aware now as his unoccupied hand undid his _hakama_ enough so that his erection could spring free. "Let go… you son… of a bitch!"

"Sorry, sweetheart, but you're in no position to tell me what to do."

So saying, he slapped her bottom, making her shriek. Leaning forward, he let his length rest in the warm crack of her ass, enjoying the heat. She squirmed and called him all sorts of things. Nnoitra ignored the insults and went from groping her tit to skimming her tight belly, his fingers travelling below her navel until they found what they wanted.

Rangiku froze the second he pushed a finger into her and sucked in her breath when he moved it in and out, testing her passage. While she was dry, she wasn't a virgin. With a body like that, he would have been shocked if she'd been untouched, but her walls were still nice and snug. He couldn't wait to get inside of her.

"Take your hands off of me, monster!"

"Oh, keep it up! I love it when bitches struggle!" he purred, sliding his tongue up the side of her neck and nibbling on her earlobe. He also grabbed his stiff cock. He would be the first to admit that his wasn't the thickest, but what he lacked in girth he more than made up for in length. The only one who could challenge him size-wise was Yammy and he doubted that the Tenth could compete with him when it came to total inches.

"You asshole! Stop it! Get off! Don't you touch me!"

"Get off, you say? That's a great idea!" he taunted, knowing she didn't have the leverage to do anything. Kami, it felt _good_ , having a powerful woman quiver beneath him. The few female Numeros he liked to bang weren't much of a challenge and he would have passed them up save for the fact that the lower-ranking bitches were the only available pussy in Hueco Mundo. _This_ broad had gone up against the Trés Bestias and lived to tell the tale. That alone would have set her apart from the others, but the rest of the package was just too good to resist.

Nnoitra sat back on his haunches and carefully rubbed the head of his cock up and down her pussy, between her inner lips. At the same time, he started circling his thumb around her clitoris, alternating between pressing and pinching it. She cursed and screamed at him when her entrance grew moist enough for him to pop the head of his shaft inside her. Gathering the wetness that formed where they tentatively joined with his fingers, he started rubbing her clit in earnest. When he judged that his victim's once-dry passage was slippery enough that entry wouldn't cause him any friction-related pain, he sank into her.

"Fuck… fuck… so nice…" he crooned aloud as she enveloped him. She choked and hissed at the slow penetration, but he didn't care. He was too lost in the sensation of her silky twat, caressing every inch of him. Another round of fevered curses interspersed with screams barely registered as Nnoitra sighed and leaned forward again. The fingers of his right hand grasped a nipple, while his left hand pressed against her belly, holding her in place. It had been far too long since he'd fucked anyone worthwhile, and when he bumped up against her cervix, he stopped, wanting to relish this and commit it to memory.

It was too bad she still didn't understand she was beaten. Rangiku kept putting up a fight, ignoring the fact he was balls-deep in her, so he did the one thing that would allow him to fully subdue her. Nnoitra pulled out halfway and then slammed his hips against her delightfully rounded bottom while delivering a shot of his reiatsu straight to her core. Unsurprisingly, her eyes flew open and her mouth formed a shocked 'O', which was much better, in his opinion, than spewing profanity.

"D'ya get it now, Ran-chan?" he slurred into her ear, and started playing with her clit again. Her hips bucked in response and a garbled 'oh, god' fell from her lips. Two more surges of reiatsu directly to her womb and she really slicked up, enough so that his next three thrusts went smoothly. Soon Nnoitra settled into a rhythm that matched her gasps. The spine below him arched and she slumped, her weight supported by her forearms, but all that changed was the angle at which she gripped him. There was no escaping the fate he had planned for her.

This, he thought blissfully, was what he'd been missing. That her whimpers turned to moans just added to his enjoyment. It was so easy to lose himself to his building climax, to imagine that the strands of reddish-gold hair that he grabbed and pulled were a different color and that the grass was really sand crunching under his knees…The illusion was so strong that he _almost_ forgot to finish what he started, until it was nearly too late. Once Nnoitra realized he was dangerously close to cumming prematurely, he corrected his near-mistake. Rangiku sobbed as he sent unrelenting doses of his energy into her, grinding furiously. The flesh around him subsequently twitched, tightening enough to let him know she was at capacity and ready for him to complete the Claim. Brushing her bright mane aside to reveal her neck showed him something else: a thin gold chain fixed with a ring of the same metal. During their struggles, the ring had migrated around to rest against her nape. The sight of it inexplicably angered him. He tore it from her and tossed it aside, not caring where it landed. Its removal served to bring her back to her senses temporarily and she cried out, extending an arm in a useless attempt to save it.

Nnoitra saw this and brought his hand down on her wrist, a move that also helped shove his cock against her deepest parts. If she liked gold so much, he thought as he opened his mouth and breathed on a spot just below her ear, he'd give her a real chain and a ring that was worth all that weeping. It was the last thought before he sank his teeth into her neck.

The taste of a different metal flowed over his tongue and most of the body beneath his went stock still. The only part that moved as he drank in her blood and her reiatsu was the softness sheathing his cock. Shivering and throbbing, her pussy constricted to the point of near-pain, and at that point he came hard, flooding her with his semen. Between the fervor of his release and the euphoric feeling of her shiny reiatsu in his mouth, Nnoitra decided that nothing else in the world could ever compare. He'd never get tired of her. She was the perfect trophy and he intended to display her every chance he got. The sounds from inside the house had ceased and Nnoitra assumed that Tesra had disposed of whoever lived there, either by tossing them out on their ears or gutting them. He'd set the piglet to cleaning up any blood if he had to, since it was high time he inspected his new digs.

Reluctantly, Nnoitra pulled his softening dick out of his new pet and sat back to admire his handiwork. The fading orange light made her well-fucked body, bruised and splayed on the grass, look like a work of art. As the Claim settled around her, he also began to perceive her emotions. Despair, anger, confusion and grief fought for dominance as she recovered enough to push herself to her knees, though she had to fight off some dizziness. He'd probably hit her head harder than he originally intended, but that was her fault. If she'd just given in and let him do what he wanted, he wouldn't have had to get rough with her. She immediately scuttled away from him, hunting through the grass, probably searching for her jewelry.

He snapped his fingers and called out, "Tesra!" while he tucked his shaft back into his _hakama_ and stood up. A quick bout of vertigo told him that maybe he'd overdone it with the Claim, but it had been so worth it, especially when he saw his cum leaking down her inner thighs.

"Yes, Nnoitra-sama?" Tesra moved over from his guard position to join him on the grass.

"Is the den ready?"

"Yes sir. There's plenty of room and a full kitchen. Hot running water too. You can bathe at your leisure if you like."

"Great. Why don't you go and get yourself a pet if you want one. Mine's not going anywhere."

"I'd rather cement our control over this property, sir."

"Feh. Fine. Do whatever you want,"

Nnoitra thought his fraccion was wasting a golden opportunity to dip his wick, but that was Tesra's problem, not his. Shrugging, he turned his attention back to his new bitch. She was still crawling around on all fours, searching and Nnoitra decided he'd had enough of it. "Come on pet," he ordered, jerking harshly on the Claim. The blonde snarled at him, but couldn't control her arms and legs when he compelled her to her feet. She blasted him with fury and fear and tried to cover her nakedness with her hands.

"What the hell have you done to me?"

Her question had a hysterical edge to it and she immediately tried to take the same defensive stance he'd seen her take in the hall. One unspoken order later and she dropped her arms, to her shock. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, Nnoitra forced her to stand meekly before him and smirked while she struggled against invisible constraints.

"I Claimed you," he replied and his smirk became a full-blown grin. It widened as her arms and legs began to move against her will. Tesra had pushed the back door of the house open and stood to the side like a sentry. Nnoitra could feel her fighting his will with every step and while he found her efforts amusing, he could think of better uses for what remained of her energy.

A shower would be a good start. They were both sweaty and dirt-smudged from the many battles they'd fought. He'd get her to scrub his back in that one place he couldn't quite reach. It was never too early to start training her as to what he liked and it had been too long since he'd had the time or the resources to fuck a female under a spray of hot water. A big soft futon and a few days to enjoy his conquest wouldn't hurt either.

In one last gesture of defiance, Rangiku tried to grab the wooden frame on either side of the door, proclaiming yet again that he had no right to do this to her. Nnoitra snorted at her persistent delusions and her hands to fall to her sides, on another silent order. In addition, he amended his command to include keeping her lips shut until he deemed that she had a reason to part them. The darkness inside the house swallowed her as her body crossed the threshold. Meanwhile, Tesra ducked his head, muttered something about giving him his privacy and left to check the front of the house.

If his fraccion wanted to play at being a sentry instead of hunting down some tail, the twerp was welcome to do so. Tesra's vigilance would spare Nnoitra the bother of marking his den. He was going to enjoy getting to know every inch of her and thanks to Aizen he had all eternity to do it.


	6. The Sixth

The Sixth

Grimmjow wasn't happy.

Not by a long shot.

His battle with Ichigo had been going great before that fucktard Nnoitra had cut in and ruined his chance at skinning the boy. It was a pity the ridiculously tall and obviously deranged Shinigami with the bells hadn't finished off the Fifth. Once the Aspect of Despair was face-first in the sand, the one-eyed madman and his chirpy little brat had wandered off in search of another scrap, neglecting to put either of the downed Espada out of their misery. Worse, Kurosaki hadn't done him the honour of killing him either. Starrk had snatched Inoue Orihime and the infuriating human had given chase, hauling Nel with him.

Such disregard really pissed him off, but the terrible thing, in Grimmjow's opinion, was that _Kuro-fucking-saki_ had had the nerve to _save_ his ass from Nnoitra's scythes. That unasked-for rescue had made him look like weak sauce and had put him in the teenager's debt.

Kami, he _hated_ being in debt.

The Sixth had briefly lost consciousness, only to come around to yet another Shinigami hovering over him. She introduced herself as Unohana Retsu, Taichou of the 4th Division, which meant jack-all to him. Nnoitra and his sniveling shadow, Tesra, were nowhere to be seen. At first he thought she'd purified them and expected her to do the same. Then she'd placed her hands on him and began the process of knitting his wounds together, confusing him to no end. Healing his perforated hide had struck him as bad tactics, considering they were on opposite sides of the conflict. Then again, he liked not being in pain. Grimmjow let her do her thing and tried to figure out if and when he ought to repay her by severing her spine with Pantera.

A quick probe of her reiatsu had sent that notion packing. He might be reckless, but he wasn't stupid. Shortly after she finished getting him back on his feet, the call came informing both sides that Aizen had won. The survivors were to be rounded up and brought to a central location in the Seireitei. He'd caught a glimpse of resignation on her face, but she didn't try to make a break for it. Grimmjow didn't understand that either. Instead of at least trying to escape, she calmly accompanied him through the Garganta he'd opened. Threats and wheedling proved unnecessary, which was fortunate. The woman was far too powerful for him to budge in his weakened state, had she not wanted to go.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to rid it of sand and grimaced as it snarled in drying blood clots.

' _Let_ _'_ _s be real. She_ _'_ _d could have cut me open and used my intestines as a jump rope._ _'_

Admitting that was easier than he expected. There was steel beneath that placid exterior and something told him that he'd be better off not trying to find out how he stacked up against it.

Once in the Soul Society, she immediately left him to deal with the injured. Interestingly, she handled the Arrancar and the Shinigami with equal skill. The worst of the bunch was the white-haired man Starrk and Lilinette dropped off. He had a wound in his chest that put some Arrancars' Hollow holes to shame and he was covered in blood. Grimmjow would have figured him for a goner; it was a miracle he was alive at all. What Starrk and Lilinette saw in the poor bastard was as big a mystery to him as Unohana's submissiveness.

The biggest surprise was when Ulquiorra arrived with Orihime. The girl sparkled with a newly-minted Claim, wearing clothing that someone had partially shredded. That Cifer had gotten laid shocked him only a little less than knowing the bat had taken the girl he'd been ordered to protect as a pet without asking permission. Aizen probably wasn't going to like that, Grimmjow figured, before he shrugged and wrote it off as 'not my problem.'

His hope that someone would drag Kurosaki's beaten body through a Garganta so that he could continue where they'd left off eventually fizzled out when the remaining Espada and their captives congregated in the ruins of Karakura town. The Seventh and the Ninth Espada failed to appear and the Sixth spent exactly zero seconds mourning them. Instead, he perused what was left of the tottering, blown-out buildings, the heaps of randomly strewn debris and shards of broken glass, and whistled appreciatively. The devastation _was_ extraordinary in scope and Grimmjow was impressed that Harribel and her fraccion had found _any_ human survivors in the wreckage. There were only three of them, all female, and at first he dismissed them as unimportant. That proved to be a premature assessment. He was busy daydreaming about flaying Ichigo alive when a name cut through his reverie, forcing him to pay attention to what was going on around him.

"Kurosaki Karin."

The name belonged to a black-haired cub brave enough to glare openly at Aizen. Had he heard that right? Could she be a relative, maybe a daughter? No, that didn't seem right… Kurosaki was still too young to have cubs, especially not cubs as old as the girl appeared. No one had said anything about a mate during briefings. The most likely one to fill that role had been the black-haired Shinigami shrimp he'd impaled, but neither had smelled like sex and there was no Claim between them.

"You are no doubt the younger sister of Kurosaki Ichigo. Who is the other girl?"

Aizen eyed the unconscious blond cub lying in heap next to her while Karin seethed and the wheels in Grimmjow's head began to turn. _This_ put a new spin on things. The Sixth hadn't considered the possibility of siblings and decided to test that theory. He brushed his reiatsu against hers. She was still a youngster, so there wasn't a lot there yet, but it definitely had the 'Kurosaki' tang to it, so he didn't think she'd fibbed about the family link. Only a complete idiot would claim to be related to Ichigo in this setting.

"She's my sister, Yuzu."

"Two sisters… how _intriguing_ …" Aizen murmured and regarded the two as a cat might contemplate a nest of baby mice.

Fuck intriguing. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes as he studied the children in earnest, taking in everything about them. Their coloring was different from that of their brother, but that didn't mean much – there were few people in the Living World with hair that shade of orange. Both appeared to be roughly the same age, height and weight, which could only mean one thing: they were twins. Ichigo's sire and dam must have been thrilled to produce two viable offspring at the same time. That they'd made it to their current ages spoke well of their health and their strength. Then he kicked himself; they were human and he was over thinking things. Unlike Hollows or Shinigami, humans bred like rats. For all he knew, twins were a regular occurrence among the living, not a novelty.

Once the injured were mobile, if not completely healed, Aizen put a stop to Unohana's work and ordered everyone to march to the 1st Division. Again, that meant fuck all to Grimmjow, but the blistering wave of reiatsu his leader used as a goad to get the defeated moving was enough to motivate him as well. The Sixth stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed the crowd to a very imposing meeting hall with the kanji for '1' written everywhere. His creator strode to the head of the room, turned and made a familiar gesture, indicating that he wanted reports from his Espada and he wanted them now. When it came time for Grimmjow to speak, he recounted his battle, paying Nnoitra back for interfering by describing how badly the Fifth had done against his opponent. The mantis sneered at him and put his hand on the hilt of Santa Theresa, but couldn't do anything officially to Grimmjow in Aizen's presence.

' _I'll just let him take the fall for allowing Kurosaki and that monster Kenpachi to escape.'_

Then it was Szayel's turn and Grimmjow tuned out. His mind kept wandering to the two girls, one propping up the other, on the other side of the room, rather than listening to whatever the pink freak had to say about the destruction of his precious laboratory. Once Yammy had finished his short and badly-worded report, Aizen addressed the entire room.

"I do believe Victory has been achieved, and so I let you Claim your right to it."

The conqueror smiled pleasantly at them, as if he was bestowing some sort of great gift. "But please, try not to be too greedy and keep it to no more than two apiece."

So, they could Claim two pets. He had no interest in anyone else in the room. Hell he didn't even know who any of them were, nor did he care, and while he most certainly would never cast a Claim on a cub, he could still take them on as fraccion. That way, none of the others could gainsay him if he officially decided to Claim them when they were older, assuming Ichigo didn't come looking for them first.

He moved over to stand before them, and to his amusement, the one called Karin immediately stood up, glaring at him in an imitation of her older brother. _Now_ he saw the resemblance. Her eyes were grey instead of brown and her hair was black instead of that irritating orange, but the scowl was a carbon copy.

"You got a problem with me?" she demanded, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

He couldn't help it. Grimmjow grinned at the spunk she displayed and then laughed aloud. "Just thinking on how I can use you to bring that bastard brother of yours in."

"So what, I look like bait?"

Her angry comeback was quick and for a kid who had just seen her world destroyed, it was surprisingly astute. He laughed louder this time, tickled at how resilient she seemed, compared to her twin.

'Bait' was a great description; there was no way Ichigo wouldn't come looking for his sisters if he knew they were alive. When the freakish hybrid came to liberate them, Grimmjow would be ready. He really only needed one of them, and he briefly considered leaving the unconscious blonde girl, but Karin didn't seem the type to abandon her sister without putting up a fight. The lack of a Claim on her meant that he couldn't force her to obey him without resorting to physical force. The Espada did not want to drag a screaming, kicking, biting, clawing cub around, nor did he want to keep her caged, mostly because he owed Ichigo. Keeping one and discarding the other didn't sit right with that nagging part of his brain that acted as a crude conscience.

Justifying his actions was easy. Taking the girls would be a way of paying Kurosaki back for the double-edged act of saving him. If Karin was anything like her brother (and from the way she held onto her sister, he suspected she might be) keeping Yuzu safe would ensure Karin's good behaviour. Anything to get that masked jerk to show himself. He just had to bide his time.

Grimmjow let out a slow breath and made up his mind.

"Grab your dead weight sister and follow me," he ordered in a curt voice and put both of his hands in his pockets. The stance was meant to convey a message: 'Don't think of doing anything else.' For a moment it looked as if she wanted to argue, but then she took a look around the room. Nnoitra chose that moment to glance their way and Grimmjow was actually gratified to see a shiver of revulsion shake her small, wiry frame. Her correct assessment of the Fifth's character meant she had some common sense. It was a point in her favor that she evidently thought he was the better option when it came to her sister's well-being, because she gathered up her dazed sibling and did her best to stumble after him.

Aizen had made his top-ranked Arrancar memorize the city's layout, just for this day, so he had a general idea of which of the many areas radiating outward from the walls had the best dens. Grimmjow didn't bother turning around, though he occasionally listened to make certain that the footsteps behind him were still there. She kept up with him for a while, but eventually the extra baggage she carried started to cause her to fall behind. The girl also started panting. The sound was quiet at first but grew louder as they approached one of the gates out of the city. Just before that situation got on his last nerve, Yuzu stirred and mumbled something.

Grimmjow allowed a short pause while Karin put her sister back on shaky feet and checked her again for any signs of injury. Once the blonde could walk, he snarled at the two to 'pick up the pace.' The hair on the back of his neck felt itchy, which wasn't a good sign. They needed to get out of the walled fortress before things got serious. Cubs didn't need to witness, let alone be a part of, the massacre he knew was coming.

The Sixth all but shoved the twins through the huge gate with Sonido. They came to a stop on the other side in the middle of what he assumed was some sort of shopping district. Yuzu looked sick to her stomach and Karin's face had paled in a reaction to the short, too-fast dash, but neither puked, so he kept going. It was nothing short of a forced march, but he had his reasons. When the sky above the Seireitei ripped open like a great black maw, sooner than he had planned, Grimmjow hissed and growled a few profane words. He also considered grabbing both girls and making a run for it. They were well out of the fortified portion of the Soul Society, but he didn't trust his fellow Hollows not to extend their marauding into the inner Districts.

"Where are we going?" Karin asked in a hesitant, cranky voice.

"To find a den," he replied. "We need a place to hole up and we need to find it before things get ugly. If you want to stay alive, I suggest you stick close and do what I tell you."

Karin's mouth opened, probably to tell him what she thought of that, but this time he had a plan. Instead of saying anything, he pointed in the direction from which they'd come. When she turned around and saw the smoke rising from behind the walls and the darkening sky lit up from a multitude of fires, her eyes got much bigger. Grimmjow was glad she was intelligent enough not to press the issue. He'd give her this much: she was smarter than her brother. In fact, she grabbed her twin by the arm and did her best to stay in step with him as they hurried away from the invasion.

"Who are you?" she asked. The question was little more than an agonized pant. Her hand was on her side and he guessed that the muscle there was cramping from exertion.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Sexta Espada."

Finally, he spotted a den that looked appropriate. It was getting late and sleep was sounding good. Unohana may have healed him, but it was going to take some time to get back to full strength. Yuzu looked as if she was ready to collapse and Karin was little better. Still, neither complained. Making him think that his decision to take them was a good one.

"Wait here. I'll be right back. Don't move."

"Don't kill them," Karin whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

He paused and looked over his shoulder at her. Her eyes rose to meet his and in them he could see a heartfelt plea for mercy. For the first time, he was staring into the eyes of a frightened cub, and not a defiant Kurosaki.

"I know you're a Hollow, but please, there is no reason to kill these people for their house! I am sure you are strong enough to just chase them away."

Grimmjow pinched the bridge of his nose, hating the way she looked just then. Kurosakis weren't supposed to act like scared kittens. They were supposed to bite back, to claw and scratch and…

Irritated at himself, he grunted and stalked to the front porch. Raising one boot, he kicked in the door. A family of three, a father and two daughters, were almost done eating dinner, judging from the number of empty bowls and plates. All three gaped at him as he strutted into the house and barked a command.

"This den belongs to me. If you wanna live, I suggest you run, before the rest of the Arrancar start trying to find a place to bunk down. Get going!"

They stayed frozen for all of three seconds before fleeing through the back door. To make sure they left for good, he followed them as far as the threshold. In the time it had taken to cross the room, the family had disappeared through the back gate, leaving it wide open. Through it, Grimmjow saw a steadily growing stream of people trotting down the street, fleeing the trouble closer to the walls. For his part, he did his best not to think about why he had bothered to spare such insignificant creatures, other than the simple fact that he didn't get off on swatting flies, and even less on slaughtering cubs. It certainly had nothing to do with Karin's request. She did, at least, have the grace to acknowledge his restraint with a thankful look as she propelled Yuzu through the front door and into their new den.

"Whatever you do, stay in the house until I tell you."

"Oh… okay," Karin replied and let her eyes roam over the furnishings, the remains to the meal and still-warm cushions around the dinner table. Grimmjow shut and latched the door, locking it for good measure. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean, solid and defendable. That done, he drew up a mental list of things he'd need to procure once things settled down .At the top was some new clothing, for both him and his new charges. His uniform, in particular, was a bloodstained mess. Without saying anything else, he located the bathroom. There was a tub with a set of taps and a faucet, a showerhead coming out of one tiled wall and a wooden bench. No sign of a toilet, but then he remembered that in the Seireitei, those were kept separate from bathing chambers.

' _It was more efficient to put everything together in Hueco Mundo, since showers were the norm. Not enough water for a good soaking either. I_ _'_ _ll have to try that out at some point._ _'_

His inner feline goaded him into shedding his uniform and turning on the left tap attached to the showerhead. A spray of cold water almost sent him scrambling away, but he endured it and a minute later the water warmed, eventually getting hot enough to turn his skin pink. Grabbing a bar of soap, he scrubbed his hair and as much of his body as he could reach, not stopping until he'd rinsed away as much dirt and sand and dried blood as possible. Steam quickly filled the room and he luxuriated in the sensation of humidity, something else that Hueco Mundo lacked. When he'd run out of places to wash, he turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the shelf.

' _This place has everything_ _…_ _abundant water, soft things like this_ _…'_ He buried his face in fluffy cotton, enjoying how the cheek not covered in bone felt against heat-sensitive flesh. Las Noches had had its merits, but well-appointed bathrooms weren't one of those features.

A gray and black _yukata_ hung from a hook on the back of the bathroom door and Grimmjow pulled it on, rather than wear his shredded uniform again. It was short on him, hitting just below the knee rather than the ankle, but it covered the important parts. He'd find something better once the dust settled. Once he was presentable, he decided to see if the cubs had gotten into any trouble while he was gone and padded down the hall in bare feet. From the sound of it, the girls hadn't left the kitchen, so he felt fine making a quick inspection of the other bedrooms. The former owner's children had a reasonable number of garments in their wardrobes, though the _yukatas_ would be too large; the young women he'd chased away had been older than the Kurosaki twins and taller. Picking out two robes, he slung them over his arm and backtracked, following the banging of pots and pans.

The scene was disturbingly domestic. Yuzu was busy with something on the stove while Karin sat at the table nursing a mug of tea. The dirty dishes from the previous inhabitants' not-quite-finished meal were gone, and the blonde child's right arm moved as if she was stirring something. Whatever it was smelled… enticing? He hadn't been gone long enough for her to marinate meat, but whatever it was had a savoury scent.

He cleared his throat, announcing his presence. Both of them jumped and Karin's head shot up. Grimmjow jerked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom.

"There is a shower upstairs and two bedrooms. You two can have the smaller one with the two beds. I found these," he said gruffly as he dropped the two _yukata_ onto the table, "in one of the closets. Go ahead and wear 'em after you shower. Pretty sure you can sleep in them too."

"Oh excellent!" Yuzu smiled cheerily up at him as she moved away from the stove to pick one up, examining the pretty garment. "I'll find a needle and some thread to hem them tomorrow. That was very thoughtful of you!"

He did a double-take at her reaction. What the hell happened to the glassy-eyed, meek little thing Karin had supported for the last couple of hours? Had someone swooped in and swapped her with another child? She gazed at him with the innocence of a newborn lamb, one that didn't have the common sense to realize it was in the presence of a dangerous predator.

The effect was downright scary. No one made that kind of mental turnaround that quickly.

"Karin said you saved us, and that you're going to take care of us for Ichi-nii until he can find us. Thank you, Jaegerjaquez-san!"

Then the brat actually bowed to him and giggled.

He shot a shocked look at Karin, who shrugged her shoulders and sipped her tea, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about her sister's reaction. Was the girl daft? He sure as hell hadn't _saved_ them… all right he would concede that in a very roundabout way, he _had_ kept them from immediate harm. Neither girl would have survived what was going on behind those walls right now. Nevertheless, he was _not_ the equivalent of a mother hen, nor did any of this come from any kind of altruism on his part.

A pair of big, brown trusting eyes that looked far too much like those of his nemesis blinked back at him, as if daring him to say anything to the contrary. Grimmjow groaned, shaking his still-damp hair and sending a few lingering water droplets flying.

' _Aww_ _…_ _fuck it,_ _'_ he swore inwardly, propping his elbow on one forearm. He then rested his forehead on his knuckles and closed his eyes. ' _If believing that keeps the cub obedient and behaved, then that_ _'_ _s fine. Anything is better than screaming and caterwauling, even if it_ _'_ _s kinda twisted._ _'_

"Are you going to join us for dinner?"

Yuzu said this as she turned back to the stove, whisking whatever was in the saucepan until it frothed. The tantalizing scent made him want to say 'yes,' but his body had other ideas. He was tired and unlike Kurosaki's sisters, he'd taken significant damage during several fights.

"No. I'm going to get some rest. Make sure you two shower when you're done eating. Then go to bed. Don't open the door and don't leave, no matter what you hear or see. It's still dangerous out there and that won't change for a few days. As long as you are with me, no one will try and fuck with you. Understand?"

"We won't," Karin assured him. Just then, a powerful wave of reiatsu washed over the neighborhood. Whatever appetite he might have had vanished when he identified the owner. Yammy had just done something and Grimmjow was just glad he wasn't the target. Yuzu didn't flinch or make any indication that she'd felt the malevolent energy. Either she was a very good actor or she was very good at ignoring things she didn't want to notice. However, Karin shivered and wrapped her arms around her torso, blanching at the feel of the Tenth's power. He hoped she would take it as a warning and a reminder that she needed to play by a new set of rules.

Grimmjow retreated to the room he had chosen, but slumber didn't come until he was sure his newly-acquired bait had done as he'd ordered. He had no idea how long he'd be stuck with them, but as long as they didn't cause him too much grief, he'd keep their hides intact.

' _You had better give me one hell of a fight when you get here, Kurosaki. I ain_ _'_ _t your sisters_ _'_ _babysitter. After this shit, we_ _'_ _ll be even._ _'_

* * *

Huge hugs for those of you that reviewed. Since the Seventh is dead, up next is the Eight.


	7. The Eigth

The Eighth

If he didn't hurry…

His disappointment at being robbed of the opportunity to Claim something as rare as a Quincy only added to his resolve to move as quickly as possible. Szayel had won, Kurotsuchi had lost and that was all there was to it; he would lay Claim to the spoils Aizen had promised him as of this moment. He already had Nemu, and thanks to the vow he'd made to a dying human youth, he'd need to find a use for the redheaded dimwit too.

Abarai Renji was certainly _not_ the one he would have chosen, if given his druthers, but there was a silver lining of sorts. The ape possessed a Bankai, which was fortunate, since it appeared that obtaining another Taichou-level Shinigami of specimen quality would be impossible. Higher-ranking Arrancar had already taken them and Szayel wasn't interested in the dregs.

' _It_ _'_ _s a pity, but perhaps I can work out a trade and borrow one of them at some point in the future._ _'_

Better to let it go and focus on what was truly important. While the other Hollows hunted down Shinigami, he would pursue bigger, better plans. He wanted the treasure he'd won when he'd torn that pathetic excuse for a scientist to ribbons and Szayel swore nothing would deter him from making it his own. With that in mind, he brushed a few lingering grains of sand from the cuff of his sleeve and snapped his fingers.

"Come, Nemu. Let's retire to your late father's domain. I want to secure it before some unwitting buffoon destroys it. Oh, and speaking of such, bring _him_ with us," Szayel ordered, using his chin to point at the groaning form sprawled on the 1st Division's meeting hall floor. He was pleased with himself for keeping his voice cool and professional. The thought of all those laboratories and dedicated facilities waiting for him made him want to squeal like a teenaged girl.

"Hai, Szayel-sama."

Nemu bowed low enough for him to see the back of her head, presenting a picture of perfect subservience. A second later, she materialized next to the tattooed lout who tried to resist, but the needle she retrieved from Kami-only-knew-where put an end to his struggles. She then tossed the limp idiot over her shoulder and returned to her new master's side, all without any discernible effort on her part. Szayel smile widened; he hadn't ordered her to administer a sedative, but he heartily approved of her action.

"Excellent! A very efficient solution to an otherwise loud problem! Good show!"

Her expression did not change but inwardly, the praise took her off-guard, making her falter. That was an interesting, if unexpected response, one he would have to explore later, but for now, time was limited and he had a takeover to orchestrate. He had studied the maps Aizen had provided with great care, so he knew exactly where to go. Nemu trailed behind him with her unconscious burden, showing no signs of strain. He wanted to physically examine her as well, when he got the chance, but that too would have to wait.

Thankfully, it didn't take long to get to the 12th Division and Nemu entered the access codes into the keypad set into the wall surrounding the place. Szayel _could_ have hacked his way in but this was much faster. He was eager to see the riches Kurotsuchi had kept under such close guard.

The reveal turned out to be something of a letdown.

In fact, the place was, compared to his old fortress in Hueco Mundo, a dump.

The further Nemu led him into the main building, the more he felt as if he had entered a tomb… a dismal, dark, dank, joyless crypt. What light existed served purely utilitarian purposes and his first impression was one of deep and abiding malaise. The sheer amount of gray was overwhelming. The longer he looked at it, the more Kurotsuchi's madness made sense.

"Nemu, be a dear and place Abarai in the most secure cell we have. Then gather the staff in the closest, largest meeting room. I wish to address them immediately. See to it that those who are not present know that they don't have a lot of time to return here before Aizen unleashes the Arrancar on the city," he instructed. Her green eyes never left his as he gave her marching orders and when he finished, she bowed again, though the movement was awkward given the dead weight she carried.

Nemu strode away to carry out his will, leaving him to tap his foot impatiently. It was exceedingly tempting to follow her; Kurotsuchi had bragged about the volumes of research he had completed on the Quincy during their tussle and he wanted to find out if, hidden somewhere in all of the madman's scribblings, there was a way to obtain a replacement for the specimen-slash-pet he'd lost out on with Uryuu's death. It was probably a long shot, but it wouldn't hurt to read those if only to confirm his suspicions. He had a hunch the young man was a rare find, if not one of the last of his sort. It was probably for the best that he'd kept the body, though the information he could have extracted from it and the weapons he'd carried was limited.

He was still pondering the odds of finding other Quincies when Nemu returned, sans Renji.

"Sir, I've done as you asked as far as Abarai-Fukutaichou is concerned, but regarding the Division members…"

Her hesitancy spoke volumes and he indicated she could elaborate without fear of punishment.

"What it's the problem?"

"You'd best see for yourself, Szayel-sama."

"Show me!"

She quickly led him down several more dreary, look-alike corridors, to what was clearly a control centre, manned by several pasty-faced Shinigami who turned to face him and his new pet. He ignored their gasps of shock and awe in favor of inspecting the drama playing out on the monitor bank. The screens showed a multitude of different spots within the Seireitei proper. The majority of them also depicted hundreds of Shinigami staring upward with nearly-identical expressions of horror. Coupled with the ear-splitting sound of alarms, it took Szayel all of three seconds to figure out what had the Soul Society gawking at the sky and reaching for their weapons.

He felt the rending of reality as multiple Garganta formed overhead and wanted to curse loudly. Aizen had summoned the troops sooner than Szayel had anticipated.

"Where is 3rd Seat Akon?" Nemu quickly asked one of the men stationed below a screen, not waiting for him to formulate a plan. From her lack of fear, he could tell she was following some pre-planned disaster protocol, running down an unseen digital checklist per her programming.

"He took several units out to the remains of Karakura town. We're tracking them now."

"I see. Please issue a recall order for all Division members and tell Akon-san to pull his squad back. Tell them to return via the emergency entrance routes as fast as they can. Make certain our dedicated passages and any Senkaimon already in use are diverted to the lowest training chamber, rather than their original point of exit."

"Yes, Kurotsuchi-Fukutaichou!"

The Shinigami at the controls, a petite girl with glasses and braids over her ears that included a length of chain saluted and attacked the console. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as her superior pointed to another of her colleagues. Nemu's tone grew firmer and Szayel immediately noticed the man stand straighter at his station.

"Fumiji-san, please activate this Division's primary and secondary defence systems. Once we confirm the arrival of all inbound teams, carry out the following directive: every member of the 12th Division _must_ assemble in Conference Room A in fifteen minutes. No exceptions. As of now, we're on lockdown."

"On it Ma'am!"

Szayel was beginning to enjoy the brisk way his pet handled underlings. None of his manufactured fraccion had possessed her intelligence, her foresight or her poise. He personally found her calm, reserved delivery soothing, and the perfect complement to her pleasing exterior. The monitor crew scampered to do her bidding and he was satisfied that the respect they held for her would negate the possibility of insurrection.

Things were _definitely_ looking up, even if his surroundings needed work. No one in their right mind used olive green and muddy gray as a primary color scheme.

The conference room was indistinguishable from the rest of the building as far as its drabness and lighting guaranteed to result in eyestrain. The rudimentary seating consisted of an inadequate number of metal folding chairs whose tedious hue was interrupted only by a large chalk board above a raised platform. Szayel presumed it was a rudimentary stage of sorts.

The Espada sighed and briefly closed his eyes, wishing for a plusher venue for what needed to be a good performance. The goal was to get through this without exertion, and he wanted to avoid bloodshed if possible.

' _Patience, patience_ _'_ he told himself. _'_ _Let_ _'_ _s convey our mission statement and_ then _we can start tearing up the carpet._ _'_

When the last strangler stumbled through the door, he climbed the five steps leading up to the stage. No one made a sound as he spread his arms wide and smiled brightly at the crowd, though he noted a few of them kept looking nervously at the exits. None of them seemed like much of a threat, having appearances that suggested they spent more time indoors than out, but one never knew. It was best to let them know where they stood as far the changing of the guard.

"Good evening," he intoned, after clearing his throat. "I am here to inform you that, as you probably already know, Aizen-kami has won the war and has ascended to the Throne of the Soul King. I am Szayel Aporro Grantz, currently the Octavo Espada. You may address me as Szayel-sama. I am pleased to announce that I defeated and killed your former leader, the deplorable Kurotsuchi Mayuri, earlier today. As such, everything that was formerly his now belongs to me. If you don't believe me, your Fukutaichou witnessed his death and can provide confirmation." He swept a hand towards the spot where Nemu stood silently with her fingers laced together. "If, for some reason, you require further proof, you may ask the former Fukutaichou, Abarai Renji, or you can view the footage, both audio and visual, taken by my security system in Hueco Mundo, once I have the necessary time to retrieve them."

' _I should probably take the time to edit those too. Just in case._ _'_

Only he and the lovely construct he'd Claimed knew everything on those recordings. With luck, it would remain so. If Aizen found out about the bargain he'd struck with Uryuu, there could be trouble. Low murmurs worked their way through the crowd at this revelation and the mood grew a shade darker. However, he still had their full attention and to his surprise, no one immediately jumped up to 'avenge' the late Kurotsuchi.

"What does this mean for us?" a young-looking boy standing near the front of the crowd asked, shyly raising his hand as he did so. Szayel, in turn, cocked an eyebrow at his pet.

"Tsubokura Rin," Nemu said, supplying the youth's name without having to look at him. Szayel added 'pinpoint audible recognition' to the pile of her positive qualities.

"An excellent question, Rin-kun," he said and smiled warmly at the lad. "First, _we_ will all stay safely inside these walls while the Numeros sate their bloodlust on the outside world. I refuse to allow those ruffians to subjugate this Division's brilliant minds. From this moment forward, you are under my protection as my fraccion."

He clasped his hands behind his back and made a show of walking back and forth across the stage. Then he paused dramatically and let the fact he was the only thing standing between them and a pack of slavering Numeros sink in, before resuming his speech.

"That should take about a day or two. As your Fukutaichou says, we are locked down and I want a full inventory of our comestible supplies within half-an-hour of this meeting's end. Once the chaos dies down, we'll see about replenishing our stockpile of food and water."

This resulted in absolute silence, during which his new flunkies stared at one another in disbelief.

"You mean… you're not going to kill us?" another voice called out, sounding hopeful. This one sounded like a woman. Szayel responded by waving one hand dismissively.

"Only if you prove to be useless, or incapable of following simple instructions. Nor do I intend to disarm you. I will be blunt – none of you are capable of opposing me, but let's not waste time on useless quibbling. I've no reason to eliminate you… unless, of course, you can't bear the thought of following me." He added his best 'sad face' to the last.

The rumbling from the audience increased and he allowed it, wanting to get it out of the way. When he decided that they'd had long enough to discuss the change in management, he crooked a finger at Nemu and used the Claim to urge her to join him. Some of the higher-ranking, bolder Shinigami began to pepper her with questions. Chief among these were what she thought of the situation.

"Aizen-kami has won," she stated flatly, effectively shutting down any resistance before it could begin. "Szayel-sama is entitled to the possessions once owned by Kurotsuchi-Taichou, having defeated him in combat. This includes his rank, his titles and this Division."

"He can't be any worse than Kurotsuchi was," someone grumbled in a voice just loud enough for him to hear, and several more murmured in agreement. It was, Szayel supposed, the very worst of backhanded compliments, but he'd take it for now. They'd find out soon enough what it meant to serve a real scientific genius, rather than a painted madman with questionable fashion sense.

"Does this mean you have collectively decided to remain in my employ?"

There was some foot shuffling, but a chorus of 'Hai's eventually filled the room. Happy that he wouldn't have to put anyone out of his or her misery, Szayel rubbed his gloved hands together and turned up the voltage on his thousand-watt grin.

"Marvelous! Now, our first order of business is to design a new building, because this _heap_ ," and here rolled his eyes in disdain, "is the very definition of 'dreadful'. I have no idea how any of you _function_ in this mausoleum! This is a scientific institution, not a grave or a sewage treatment plant! It should reflect the glory that is science itself! I want something grander, more inspiring! I want a den that will induce mind-blowing ideas, brilliant breakthroughs and heart-stopping revelations about the workings of the universe! Gifted minds should not have to muck about in such squalor! I want glass and light, mirrors and clean surfaces! I want a jewel that will announce to the rest of the Seireitei that work of Great Importance happens within..."

Szayel was brought up short when he glanced at the crowd and found them gaping at him. One or two mouths were actually open, though no sound issued forth. Then, the one called Rin raised his hand once more and posed a question in his quavering, boyish voice.

"What about a vending machine in the main lobby? There are all sorts of vending machines in the Living World. They give out candy and coffee and… and cake…"

The Espada thought he saw a little drool at the corner of the small researcher's mouth. He also 'tsk-ed' at the utter mundanity of what he'd just heard. Snacks? He shook his head in disbelief. They wanted _snacks_. How downtrodden were these poor sods?

"Vending machines? That's a fine idea, though I think they'd be best located in the cafeteria," he replied, tapping his chin thoughtfully with one finger. Stunned silence prevailed for a few more minutes, and then someone else, a goggle-eyed individual that resembled a peeled, pudgy potato, spoke up. He sounded as gobsmacked as Rin.

"You mean… we can have a _cafeteria_ now? Really? Or maybe a break room?"

He had both hands clenched below his chin and Szayel had to fight the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall.

' _Oh, Kami_ _…_ _it_ _'_ _s worse than I dreamed._ _'_

"Of course!" he snorted and put his hands on his hips. "No researcher worth his or her credentials should allow food or drink to contaminate a working laboratory. The very idea! I expect the best for my hard-working fraccion and that includes a proper commissary!"

His proclamation was all it took to crack the dam holding back long-buried resentments and frustrations. Over the next few hours, Szayelapporo Grantz discovered how deeply the 12th Division's morale had sunk, thanks to his predecessor's neglect. A tidal wave of barely-disguised pleas threatened to swamp him, until Nemu stepped over to the chalkboard to write down the flurry of requests with a speed that astonished him.

Thirty minutes into what turned out to be the mother of all brainstorming sessions, Szayel picked three of the most competent-seeming Shinigami from the crowd and told them to bring back food and blankets from the barracks and the requested supply inventory. He dismissed others with orders to return to monitor duty, telling them he wanted to assist any of their brethren who might still be at large. In truth, he wanted extra eyes to make sure the 12th Division's defences held, but with his reiatsu permeating the air, most of the Numeros wisely stayed away. Some of the Shinigami from other Divisions noticed that their hunters actively avoided the general vicinity, much as most sane folk had when Kurotsuchi had presided over it and took refuge nearby, even if his power made them tremble.

By morning, the remaining stragglers had joined the rest of their number in Conference Room A. The returning Shinigami were pale, their faces grim and they relayed what Szayel expected: tales of widespread anarchy and predation on the part of the invaders. Thanks to Nemu's initiative and this Division's control over the Senkaimon, the casualties were few. The only officer of note to have died was one 'Akon', who had bravely covered his squad's escape and had died as a result.

The sharp twinge of pain that hit him at that announcement wasn't his and Szayel immediately looked to Nemu. Her back was still turned, but the hand holding the chalk froze at the announcement. The Espada's golden eyes narrowed behind his mask and he wondered what the other Shinigami had meant to her. The lapse was short. His pet resumed writing without further ado and over her shoulder, told the late arrivals to put aside any thought of defying their new master. There wasn't much defiance to begin with; none of those who had seen what was going on in the streets wanted to take their chances. With few options but to accept Szayel, they retired to the back of the room to lick their wounds and join in the redecorating discussions.

Night dragged on and by morning the chalkboard held a plethora of new ideas and 'must haves' for upgrades to the current facilities. The room's occupants, on the other hand, were on their last legs and he dismissed them with a warning not to lower the Division's defence systems. He assumed that they would be sensible and return to their quarters. Those still awake were yawning and debating the merits of investing in Living World technology, as well as options for getting some of the trickier modern devices to work in a world built of energy, rather than matter. Yet again, Szayel was reminded that, had the Quincy lived, he would have possessed a possible key to such feats and ground his molars together until he was sure the enamel on them cracked.

He was the focus of a few conversations as well, and other than the word 'Hollow' coming up from time to time, he detected little outright animosity for his person. They were understandably frightened, but it was always good, in his opinion, to keep one's fraccion on their toes. As long as they displayed the proper reverence for the scientific method and proved adept at their assigned tasks, he'd refrain from eating them.

Eventually fatigue took its toll and Szayel raised one hand to stifle a yawn. Nemu immediately materialized next to his elbow.

"Szayel-sama," she softly entreated, "It's late and you should rest."

The neat writing on the board was growing blurry and he realized she was right. He had been expending energy in marking his new territory and prior to that, he'd fought not one, not two, but _three_ battles. The reiatsu he'd used to Claim Nemu was an additional loss, since he'd had to saturate her with the same reiatsu he'd taken from her with Fornicaras' _Gabriel_.

"Ah, yes, you're correct. Retiring now would be wise."

Once more, he felt how surprised she was, which he didn't quite understand. Was she unaccustomed to acknowledgement of her good advice? Had her father routinely ignored sound counsel? That, to him, seemed the height of foolishness, but if he took the staff's joy at being able to freely express their opinions, Kurotsuchi Mayuri listened to no one but himself. His daughter had proved a remarkably valuable acquisition. A tiny part of him was irked that his initial impulse had been to kill her along with her father. It was another thing for which he could posthumously thank Ishida Uryuu and that thought brought him right back around to his inability to save such a prize. An unbidden image of not one, but _two_ dark-haired, lithe-bodied pets, limbs spread out on silk sheets, waiting for him felt like lemon juice rubbed into a scrape.

' _There_ _'_ _s no use lamenting what_ _'_ _s beyond my grasp and she_ _'_ _s definitely worth what I expended in reiatsu. Perhaps I_ _'_ _ll feel better about things after some sleep._ _'_

He rubbed his face and this time his yawn was unstoppable.

"Is there an acceptable room nearby?" he inquired "Not that I don't trust my new fraccion, but I'd like to avoid an assassination attempt while I slumber. Temptation removed and all that."

Nemu nodded towards the door. "This way. Please follow me."

She led him down yet another hall, this one with a few turns that left his head spinning and his sense of direction askew. Arriving at a nondescript door, she pushed it open to reveal a bed and a table. Like everything else in this place, it was basic, but a quick whiff told him the linens had been freshly laundered.

"I ordered Yamada-san to set this up on his way back from the barracks. It was nothing to get him to bring new bedding from the quartermaster's stores, along with the blankets. Do you wish me to stand guard, Szayel-sama?"

It had all of the elegance of a broom closet, but it was better than nothing and it would do until he could construct a real suite for himself.

"You aren't tired, Nemu?"

She lowered her lashes in reply. Her bangs and the two thin tendrils of hair that covered her temples swayed back and forth as she shook her head

"My systems are such that I do not require an eight-hour period of downtime every twenty-four hours. I am capable of staying awake for several days at a time, if necessary. There are three days left before my programming reminds me that I need a systems back-up and a recharge."

' _She truly is extraordinary,_ _'_ he thought as he looked her up and down. If he wasn't so ragged, he might have tugged her into the makeshift boudoir with him. His hands remembered her skin's softness as he'd brought her back from the brink with the Claim and he itched to find out if he'd only been imagining it. It was on the tip of his tongue to order her to show him her circuitry when a message infiltrated his mind, bearing an unexpected and in his case, unwanted demand.

' _Damn it all to the deepest Hells_ _…'_

"Szayel-sama?"

The concern in her voice and which tinted her thoughts was real. He wondered briefly why she would bother worrying about an entity with his power and pushed that aside to figure out what he was going to do about this latest wrinkle.

"My apologies, but Aizen-kami just sent a message. While I cannot argue with the value of his order, I confess that I did not intend to Claim Abarai. Unfortunately, he is Taichou-class and Aizen is aware of his ham-handed capabilities, so there is no getting around this."

Szayel pinched the bridge of his nose and looked wearily at the bed before indicating that Nemu should close the door. It would be here when he returned.

"He's more useful to me as a living research subject than a corpse," he sighed, running his fingers though his pink hair. "Take me to where you've stashed him. If I am fortunate, he may still be unconscious. It will make what I have to do less onerous."

"Someone like Abarai-san may prefer death to a Claim," she pointed out as she led him away. He wanted to scuff his boot against the floor tiles as he trailed behind her, but doing so wouldn't solve anything. Neither would petulance.

"Perhaps, but it's not his decision, and again, I need him alive in order to conduct a thorough investigation of his Bankai. I will not allow something as idiotic and illogical as homophobia to derail it."

"Do you prefer women then, Szayel-sama?"

There was an edge to her emotions he couldn't quite define. He had no reason to elaborate on his reluctance, but he did so anyway.

"As a general rule, I have a… type, but yes, I find the female form the more satisfying of the two. I'm aware that most Shinigami view sex quite differently than Hollows do. To most of us, the majority of Claims are not sexual in nature. Claims ensure obedience in otherwise unwilling subordinates. That being said, I find little appeal in males of Abarai's ilk. If there were a way to Claim him without touching him, I would do so. Sadly, such a method eludes me."

She stopped before a large set of double doors that he recognized as an elevator and entered yet another series of numbers into the keypad that controlled it. After a trip down three floors and yet another trot down a dim corridor, they entered the security block housing the cells. To Szayel's disappointment, the redhead was on his feet, hands gripping the bars and teeth bared.

"Let me out of here, you fucker!" Abarai howled, though he was nowhere near as recovered as his stance suggested. Szayel foresaw a great deal of unavoidable kicking and screaming in his immediate future and hoped that Kurotsuchi's trove of riches and his delightfully helpful daughter were worth the upcoming unpleasantness.


	8. The Tenth

Warnings: Contains Yammy. Need I say more? "locks bunker doors"

The Tenth

He was hungry, annoyed and where was that damned dog when he needed something to kick anyway?

While Yammy Llargo had been hoping that Aizen would let them eat the survivors, some of whom would make a substantial meal, the option of Claiming one of them appealed to him too. He didn't care why Aizen wanted the remaining Shinigami officers alive. Kami probably had his reasons. At the moment, his biggest 'want' was a chance to take out some of his anger on the prancing princess, the one with the pink-petaled blade that had made the colossal mistake of letting him go from 'ten' to 'zero' during their battle.

The arrogant Taichou had overestimated his own abilities and underestimated Yammy's bad mood. Sure, the prissy little bitch had made him resort to his last, most powerful form, a fact that Yammy wasn't happy about. However, the Espada had used his opponent as a doormat, all but wiping his many, many feet on the Shinigami. That the man had _survived_ the encounter made this so much sweeter. He now had the perfect opportunity to put the man he'd defeated in his proper place.

If he remembered things right, 'Kuchiki' was the name of a noble family, and as such, the man would be able to keep him well-supplied with food and saké. 'Noble' meant 'rich,' so that also meant a comfortable place to sleep. None of the other captives had those things, helping Yammy make up his mind. He strode over to the black-haired Taichou with a nasty smile and cracking his massive knuckles together.

"You heard Kami-sama! Looks like I get to fuck your ass as well as beat it," he laughed as he loomed over Kuchiki Byakuya

The noble looked up at him with obvious disgust, and he opened his mouth, probably to deliver a scathing retort or some other nonsense. Yammy didn't really care – he had an itch in his _hakama_ and wanted to scratch it as soon as possible. Therefore, he grasped Byakuya by the upper arm and dragged him away from the gathering like a rag doll, hardly feeling the Shinigami's feeble efforts to break free. The Shinigami may have been physically healed, but he was still weak. Orihime's healing hadn't restored his reiatsu. Yammy's patience was also thin. He didn't bother leaving the 1st Division, like that hen-pecked fool Starrk or Grimmjow. Instead, he kicked open the door to the first room he found and tossed his soon-to-be-pet against the wide desk of some important person's office. One of his big hands slammed the door shut behind him.

Turning around, Yammy saw that Byakuya had regained his feet. Those cold grey eyes had finally started to heat up, flashing furiously. The Espada found that funny, though not as funny as the crimson that flooded Byakuya's face as he shrugged off his vest and then, the rest of his white Arrancar's uniform. His erection jutted proudly upwards and he was gratified to see the Shinigami's eyes get bigger by the second. Yammy was far from small and no matter how good the finishing of the Claim would feel, his prize was in for a world of hurt.

That was just fine with the Tenth.

"I would sooner die than let you disgrace me in such a way," Byakuya finally snarled and raised one hand. Yammy's reply was little more than a sneer.

"Not your choice." His hand shot out and grabbed the noble's wrist before Byakuya's hand could complete its trajectory. That sent the burst of energy into a corner, where it demolished a portion of the floor and part of whatever had been next door. He caught Byakuya's other wrist before the Shinigami could send another blast of Kido at Yammy's head. One meaty paw enveloped both of Byakuya's hands and he slammed that huge fist to the side and down. That allowed him to use his larger bulk to immobilize his prey.

Only now did he finally see some fear creeping into those grey orbs. It grew greater the longer he leered down at the bitch. So did his desire to see Byakuya bleed. The Espada tore the rest of his victim's tattered _shihakusho_ away, including the man's _fundoshi_. The only items left on him were his sandals and _tabi_ and with what Yammy had in mind, those wouldn't get in the way.

The body beneath him was finely made, sleek muscles covered with smooth, pale skin. Yammy was going to enjoy plundering it again and again. The fool was struggling, trying to escape what he was about to do to it. It was time to teach his property how futile fighting him would be.

Yanking his fist a second time brought Byakuya to his knees and Yammy caught the man's jaw between his other thumb and forefinger. He jerked down and wrenched the Shinigami's mouth open. Without further ado, the Espada shoved his thick cock past the noble's lips and straight down his throat. His flesh cut off a scream and his victim's struggles intensified. Yammy easily held Byakuya's head in place, relishing the sensation of a warm, wet tongue trying unsuccessfully to push out the offending member. Groaning lewdly, he began to thrust, repeatedly hitting the back of the gagging Shinigami's throat.

With a frantic tongue working him and a pair of pretty lips wrapped around his length, Yammy almost forgot about the Claim. It was easy to lose track of time, watching the growing panic on his bitch's face, which had taken on a grayish hue from lack of air.

Unfortunately, he didn't want to lose his load too soon, so he reluctantly pulled out. Byakuya coughed violently as his airway cleared and took a ragged breath. Yammy was now wet enough to do what he wanted. He hauled his prey up, twisted the smaller man around and shoved a trembling Byakuya face-first over the desk. Lifting the man's hip with his free hand, he used his foot to kick the Shinigami's left leg to the side and settled into the gap.

"Hope you're ready pet. Here I come!"

Yammy relished the short, sharp scream as he buried himself in the nobleman's ass, the saliva providing only rudimentary lubrication. The passageway was tight, very tight, and oh so pleasurable. He was barely able to move at all at first. Then the iron-rich smell of blood permeated the air. The shaking thighs and the smooth ass under him became slick with it, though it didn't aid as far as pumping. Blood usually made a lousy lubricant, but Yammy wasn't the one being fucked, so it mattered little to him. The Shinigami panted harshly, attempting to keep silent, though it was only a matter of time before the dam holding back pained cries gave way. No one could stay silent for long under such conditions. The Tenth was enjoying himself, so much so that he didn't bother starting the Claiming process just yet. There was no rush; it would only take a few infusions of reiatsu to bind the noble to him, so he decided to wait until he was close to completion.

Byakuya's thrashing slowly grew weaker and the whimpers louder the longer Yammy fucked him, though it took the cessation of movement to remind the Espada that he didn't want to kill this one. It took no time at all to cast his Claim and he sank his teeth into the meat of Byakuya's shoulder, creating a deep wound. Fresher, redder blood dripped onto the desk and from there to the floor. The noble didn't show any sign that he'd climaxed when Yammy had completed the Claim, too traumatized by the brutality of it to display anything other than blank-eyed shock.

The brute pulled out after his cock's throbbing subsided and took a good look at his freshly-acquired pet slumped across the sullied desk, rivulets of blood and red-tinted semen running down his inner thighs. Sweaty strands of long black hair clung to the man's cheeks and the only sign the bitch still breathed was the thin, almost inaudible wheeze of air as it leaked from between his barely-parted lips.

"Beautiful," he growled, retrieving his clothing while his Claim settled. Disgust, mortification and an overwhelming amount of anger trickled into his mind, along with a lot of physical pain. Yammy considered that a good start. Even now, Byakuya had a great deal of self-control. The sooner the Espada shattered that, the better.

Even though it hadn't taken much energy to enslave the now-former Taichou, it had been a long day and Yammy had put more effort into defeating this particular enemy than he cared to recall. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he needed a meal and he didn't care whether it came in the form of food or a few unlucky souls.

"I'm starved. Take me to your den," he ordered, jerking roughly on the Claim.

A small, shameful sort of whine emanated from his captive as the command drove him to haul his bruised and battered body its feet. As tempting as it was to force the noble to walk all the way home in that state, Yammy recalled that unlike the Arrancar, Aizen had issues with unnecessary nudity. A quick check of the office yielded an embroidered kimono, still carefully folded in its box. He tossed that to his pet with the unspoken order to put it on. It was tight in the shoulders and from the pattern, the thing had been made for a woman, but if wearing it kept Aizen off his back, so be it. Moreover, his pet looked good in it. If Yammy wanted to partake of his bitch, doing so would be easier if he wore something like that, rather than a _shihakusho_. The idea grew on him the more he thought about it.

"Well look at you! You're as pretty as a princess!" he said mockingly. Then Yammy's eyes narrowed and he jerked his thumb towards the door. "Now, move your ass!"

Byakuya's body jerked in obedience.

"What have you done to me?" The Shinigami's voice was still rough from Yammy's oral assault and the screaming, but it wasn't broken yet. The fear that had been in check finally joined all of the other negative emotions and the Tenth laughed in triumph.

"I made you my bitch. I tell you what to do, and you do it. If I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock until I fill your mouth with cum, you'll do it. You'll even swallow like you love it. You can't lie to me either. I'll know it, sweetheart!"

Horror, disgust, frustration and fear competed for supremacy as he forced his slave to lead him through the growing destruction. Byakuya limped along, which only magnified the rush of unhappiness the noble fed him – unable to move at high speed, he had to bear witness to the crushing of the Gotei 13's supposedly mighty forces. They'd been caught with their pants down, figuratively and from the looks of it, literally, especially when they passed a Numeros who had caught a treat near the gate. The naked woman's screams kindled such rage in the nobleman and an equal amount of guilt as Yammy's directive required him to walk past the two, leaving her to her fate.

Getting through the gate was a problem, as his pet refused to set foot outside the walls. The Espada remedied that situation by grabbing Byakuya by the hair and pulling him through. Then he shook the Shinigami mercilessly, to punish him for his defiance. The man's explanation, that there was no gate, fell on deaf ears. Yammy could see the thing and if he could see it, there was no reason for his pet not to see it too.

The Kuchiki den turned out to be impressive. It even had its own guards, though none of these would have made more than a mouthful for someone of Yammy's power. Still, they'd be useful, if only to bring him food… or be food. He wasn't picky.

"Kuchiki-sama!" Both guards bowed as he and Byakuya approached and then stared at his unexpected attire. They also eyed Yammy warily, not quite knowing what to make of him. The one on the left cleared his throat and said, "The elders request your presence in the main council chamber at your convenience. There seems to be trouble…"

Byakuya cut off the guard before he could finish.

"I will talk with them. See to it the gates are secured, and put the staff on alert."

"Hai, Kuchiki-sama!"

"The only thing we are going to see to," Yammy grunted as soon as they were through the gates, "is getting some food."

"I have duties to my family. I need…"

Yammy yanked on the Claim to shut him up, uninterested in whatever these 'needs' were. If it didn't involve his wants, it could wait.

"Your family will be lucky if Aizen-kami doesn't kill 'em," he grunted. "Now, get me something to eat, damn it!"

With no choice, Byakuya did as ordered, leading him to a room with a low sitting table and summoning servants. Trays of food began to arrive shortly and he tore into what was on them with gusto. The accompanying saké went down smoothly and he had to admit the cooks here were infinitely better than the pathetic Numeros staffing Aizen's kitchens in Las Noches. He found having his new pet serve him amusing too, especially from a kneeling position. Yammy leaned back on his cushion and opened his mouth wide enough for the noble to hand-feed him a cluster of grapes.

Nothing this good could last, of course. A gaggle of elderly men and women dressed in fine kimonos walked in on them. Their brief silence, brought about by the shock of seeing the family leader doing the unthinkable, was short-lived. They began expressing their unhappiness and Yammy paid them no mind until their screeching got on his nerves. Without warning, he reached over and grasped the nearest Elder by the face. He dragged the shrieking, protesting woman into his personal space and without preamble, bit into her neck. Her surprised cry at being manhandled immediately ended in bloody gurgle. She had very little reiatsu, but the taste of fresh blood in his mouth complimented the grilled beef on his plate. The rest watched, thrown into a horrified stupor as he consumed her, bite by bite and tossed her bloodied clothing to the floor. A shaking servant crept from the corner of the hall and collected it, turning the ruined kimono over and over in her hands. Her eyes never left the menace as he chewed.

"Does anyone _else_ want to interrupt my meal?" Yammy thundered, glowering at the other Elders still in the room. They scattered like rats, leaving him with Byakuya once more. He licked the blood from his lips and fingers, and then slurped a bowl of udon to wash down the coppery flavour. His pet stared at him in queasy disbelief.

"Next fucker who interrupts my meal will be eaten alive," he warned, and belched loudly, enough for those terrified souls hovering in the hallway to hear it. It didn't take long for the message to be passed along, servant to servant. With no more interruptions. Yammy ate until he was satisfied, clearing several trays and uncountable dishes.

"You," he grumbled and pointed to one of the three terrified serving girls tasked with cleaning up the table. The mousy little thing froze, her eyes getting bigger than the dish in her hands. "Forget that and see to it that…" he paused and looked at Byakuya closely. The noble still reminded him of a princess in his current attire, so he decided to make it official, "my Chicchai-Hime is cleaned, healed, and ready for me to fuck in the morning." The rage and mortification at this new moniker amplified a thousand-fold across the Claim. "And you," he growled to another frightened girl, "can show me to the best sleeping chamber this place has so I can get some fucking shuteye."

After the barbaric introduction to his eating habits, the help scrambled as if their lives depended on it. The first girl all but pushed Byakuya out of the hall, apologizing the whole way to her former master and the second bowed so low he could see the back of her neck. The servant quickly showed him to a sumptuous room and he cast off his food-smeared uniform while she replaced the bedding on the futon. She fled before his back hit the mattress, but it didn't really matter to Yammy.

He'd started out today on a cold stone floor, with only that shit-for-brains masked mutt Kukkapuro for company. Now he had a much better pet, one that could do more than fetch gnawed bones and bark. Closing his eyes, he smiled toothily and stretched, putting his hands behind his head. Tomorrow he'd start training Byakuya some new tricks, to please his new master.

If the bitch knew what was good for him, he'd be a fast learner.

* * *

Next up, Aizen.


	9. Kami

Kami

There was much work to be done; a city to secure and worlds to rule. One thing he hadn't anticipated to be a problem was the lack of royal blood in his veins being an obstacle to his full ascension. He wished he'd known that before slaughtering the king's family. Fortunately, the Royal Palace had a large library, an even more impressive archive, and was thankfully easy to navigate. It hadn't taken him long to track down several decedents in the records that could, hopefully, fulfill his needs. Unfortunately, offspring between Shinigami were rare, especially high powered Shinigami. Fully securing the throne was going to take a bit longer than he had initially calculated…

The biggest tip off he'd gotten was that the great noble houses were of royal decent, so it was to them he researched first. There were also a large number of lesser noble houses, houses that had lost predominance as time passed or were now long separated branches from the originals, which could potentially offer him up a woman to breed with as well. It was somewhat of a relief to discover that, among those lesser noble houses, was Unohana Retsu's. He could just take her and throw her in a cell to rape at his leisure, but that would not be very entertaining, and she had enough strength to make things uncomfortable for him if she resisted. No, he had a much more fun game to play, for games is what made life ever so interesting, more so when the opponent was strong enough to fight back.

Then there was the traitor Gin. He was surprised the man had survived, but he supposed snakes were hard to kill, and between Unohana and Orihime, anyone who still drew breath once the two were on the scene lived, all be it beaten up and requiring time to recover, but they would survive. That was fine; Gin's death would have been unsatisfying, for the snake hadn't suffered near enough for his betrayal, even if it was one he'd been expecting. Gin had dared to play a game with him, and had lost. He had no one to blame for his future but himself.

"Retsu, Gin, please come with me. We have much to discuss," he ordered after giving his Espada their temporary instructions.

Both followed after him, Gin still limping badly and cradling his wounds, but the silver haired man did have a forced smile plastered on his face, even if it was rather weak. Aizen led them to the now late Yamamoto's office, the deceased man would no longer require it and it did overlook a large amount of the city, offering him a perfect view of the chaos that was about to descend upon the Shinigami. With a benign smile, he drew his Zanpakuto and set it on the desk, sending out his illusion to all the Shinigami infected by it, which included the majority of the population, to make it appear as if all the gates leading out of the city were closed. Having no further need of his transformed state, he let the Hogyoku's power return to its source for now and returned his body to its normal appearance.

"I am about to summon my Arrancar through to Claim our Victory," he announced, walking over to the balcony to gaze out at the currently peaceful city. "We all know how this is going to play out. I do, however, find myself in a rather embarrassing situation. It would seem I need to produce a child of royal blood to fully claim the throne. An annoyance to be sure, but any woman of high noble birth, and even a large number of lesser nobles, should suffice to give me what I need."

"It is not one of those you seek though, is it?" Unohana spoke up, moving to stand beside him and look out over the city as well.

"I may in time, should things become difficult, but for now, indeed not," he chuckled. "Power is important too, I suspect. I could easily use force; however, doing so can quickly become such a tedious affair. The 4th Division will likely be required in the coming days, especially after my Arrancar are done with the city. It would be a shame if it was destroyed in the chaos a takeover always incurs."

"You are offering protection for my healers in exchange for whoring myself out to you?" Unohana asked, turning a dark smile his way. Despite his power, he still felt a slight shiver of dread go up his spine. He was suddenly reminded that even Yamamoto headed this woman's word when she turned such a look his way.

"I would not presume to turn you into some whore, which would be insulting. While I can not guarantee protection for all of them, I can discourage my Arrancar from showing an interest in those under your command during the upcoming hours." Aizen turned to smile at her, knowing she would already agree. "I would ask you to be my wife, and while your political power would not be equal to my own, it would give you some leeway to see to things."

Her dark smile disappeared as mild surprise briefly flashed across her features at his offer. The proposition was clearly one she had never considered he would make and he could see the wheels turning in her mind as she considered his offer.

"What would being your wife entitle?" she questioned cautiously.

"Nothing more than sharing my home and my bed," he assured her. "I would not pull you from your duties, as they will still be required. I will, however, not hesitate to punish you for transgressions. As long as you remain obedient, little to no harm will come to those you care for. Disobey however…" he let that sentence trail off to let her imagination offer her whatever visuals it could conjure.

She turned to look out on the city once more, before giving her head a nod in agreement. "Very well. I will hold you to this agreement, Aizen."

"Excellent. We shall conduct the ceremony in a few weeks after everything has settled down a little."

Ignoring her for now, he summoned his troops over. He didn't need Kido to speak to them any longer, and he did so aloud so Unohana could be assured of his part of their deal.

"Each of you may Claim **one** pet for your own. No one is to fight over Claiming rights, or I WILL make an example of you. It should be noted that Unohana Retsu, Taichou of the 4th Division, has been taken as my mate." That would discourage most of them from targeting the 4th, for they would not want to upset Kami's wife by attacking her pack. It wouldn't spare all of them if any of his Arrancar truly found a target appealing, but he doubted very many in the fourth would be of interest. They were not well known for their combat skills and that was one of the only true attractions to a hollow.

He watched amused as his Arrancar descended down from the Garganta, pouring into the city. Chaos quickly erupted as the hollow and Shinigami forces met. As amusing as it would be to watch, he would do so in a bit. First, it had been a rather long day and he was getting a bit peckish. Turning towards his soon to be wife, he pleasantly asked her to head to the Division's cafeteria and bring him back something to eat. While not the best food around, it would do for now. She left without an argument, but her eyes did drift to Gin before leaving. No doubt she wondered if the silver haired traitor would still be drawing breath when she returned.

"I must thank you Gin, for your betrayal," he chuckled, turning his attention towards his former servant.

"An' why would that be, Kami-sama?" Gin asked, trying to keep an amused expression on his face, but failing. Gin, more than anyone, knew just how brutal he could be, for the prisoner had witnessed some of his more vile acts, and had participated in no few of them as well.

"All I would have to do is dye your hair pink, make you put on a pair of white glasses, and I might be able to mistake you for Szayel," he chuckled.

The amused expression quickly drained from Gin's face. His once former comrade was well aware of the enjoyment he occasionally partook from the eighth Espada.

"Only this time, I need give no reasons or excuses for calling you to my chambers for punishment," he smirked. Gin was frantically trying to cover up his fear at the thought of what awaited him as he pulled up a chair and set it on the balcony. This way he could get a good view of the destruction, not that he needed it with his new sight. Unfortunately, his sight didn't include sound and the screams of those being killed and raped was a pleasant background noise, faint though they were from this distance. It was still enough to get him hard just thinking about the destruction being wrought under his name. He briefly wondered if any of his Arrancar would have the misfortune of encountering his soon to be wife on her way to the cafeteria and back.

"Do come here Gin. It would seem I am in need of some attention. I would be mindful of your teeth, it would be rather tedious to have them all pulled out because you couldn't keep them in check."

"Oh, I don't think I would be any good at it, Kami-sama."

"Nonsense, I am sure you will do fine, and learn quickly," Aizen turned an amused smile towards Gin. "Szayel certainly did, although he was rather enthusiastic at first, after he got over the shock at having garnered my personal attention."

This time Gin did shiver, for he'd been there for some of Szayel's training. The thought of undergoing similar treatment was obviously not a pleasant one. The traitor had no idea what he was in store for. Already a myriad of things he'd always wanted to try, but didn't since he needed Szayel functioning, was suddenly opening up to him, for it mattered not if Gin could crawl the next day. The man no longer held any form of duties save that of amusing him.

"Do not make me force you over here Gin, I might decide that you have no desire to walk on your own," he warned, letting a dangerous note touch his voice and, in effect, let Gin know he was done playing.

Gin had known him more than long enough to pick up on the warning, and reluctantly moved over to stand before him before going to his knees. Gin looked up at him one last time, only to meet his dark smile. He was impressed the man's hands didn't shake as Gin undid the ties to his hakama before reluctantly pulling out his straining erection and going down between his legs. Aizen let out a sigh as the wet heat of his former subordinate's mouth took him in. He would have to indulge in this frequently. Gin was considered a genius and he didn't doubt the man would quickly learn a myriad of ways to orally please him, with the proper motivation of course. For now, he sat back and adjusted himself to be slightly more comfortable in his chair, just enjoying the attention and watching as his new home was cleansed of the weak before his eyes.

He had to give it to Unohana; she offered no reaction to the scene as she returned with a large platter of food and three plates. He wondered how many Shinigami she passed that she might have directed to the dubious safety of the 4th. Giving the number of reiatsu signatures that were quickly being snuffed, perhaps he should remind his troops that he needs _some_ of the Shinigami to survive. They still had a job to do after all.

"Do get something to eat, and than rest my dear," he directed Unohana as she handed him a plate full of food. "I am sure Yamamoto will have no further use of his quarters."

"I would sooner return to my Division," she commented calmly.

"I am sure you do. However, it has been a long day, and even you need some rest. You may return to your troops in the morning."

For a second it looked like she was going to push the issue, but after a moment she gave a bow of her head and retreated to the quarters just down the hall from this office. He finished his meal before setting the plate aside, resting it on the floor beside his chair. With his hunger assuaged for now, and a good deal of pleasure rolling over his body, he closed physical eyes so he could open his newly formed metaphysical pair.

The city appeared below him, fires covering large swaths of it with the primary exceptions of the 4th and, amusingly, the 12th division. Most of the chaos was currently centered at the 11th where it would seem those being besieged were having almost as much fun as those doing the besieging. The majority of the other Divisions, however, were not fairing as well. Several of the braver ones tried to make a defensive line or assist in getting the unseated officers out of danger, but it only delayed the inevitable. A few units of the fourth moved about, trying to heal and assist those they could. Their weaker power almost made them invisible to the hunters, but his own orders helped to protect them as well he supposed. The information dossier he'd given his troops had included the blue-green sashes the fourth division tended to wear, and he had strongly hinted that the fourth was to be left alone, so that may be giving them a little added protection as well.

He lost his focus briefly as a particular strong suck from Gin gave him a shiver of delight. Who knew the snake was so talented? Closing his eyes once more, he let his new sight reach out again. Bodies were pilling up by the gates as several of his Arrancar took the areas as prime hunting grounds. A few managed to make it through the gates, unaffected by his Zanpakuto since they'd never seen it. Not all who approached were killed, and he watched amused as several of his Arrancar tore the uniform off of one victim before forcing her down to her hands and knees and taking turns mounting her.

Not all of his Arrancar partook of rape, most noticeably the females, but several others didn't give into such desires either. A few of them didn't partake in the gleeful slaughter either. Several of the Numeros had moved right into the main city the plus souls lived in, apparently looking for dens. All of his Espada had retired from the field as well, and he took a moment to check in on them the best he could with his limited sight, utilizing windows and open doors. As long as the location was visible to the sky, directly or via reflection, he could see it.

Starrk was at the Ukitake estate with Lillinette and the two he'd chosen. Nanao made sense to him; it wasn't uncommon for Hollows to take the mates, or the sexual interest, of those they defeated. Shunsui had been chasing Nanao for years. Jushiro was an odd choice, but he supposed Lilinette may have pushed Starrk into it. She would want to 'take revenge' on the man she'd 'fought.' He did, however, notice that Jushiro appeared to be resting at the moment in his personal quarters, garden doors wide open to let in fresh air to help his lungs, and showed no signs of having been Claimed. The skin around his neck was flawless with no indications of a bite mark and his reiatsu levels felt the exact same as they had when he left the meeting room. That simply would not do. He would need the Shinigami, those that survived at least, to continue with their duties, and he would need men and women that knew what they were doing to run those divisions. He couldn't get a look at Nanao to see if Starrk had taken her.

He checked on Barragan next. He had taken over the Kyoraku Estate, not too surprisingly as it was one of the wealthiest and greatest of the noble houses. Yumichika was in a private onsen being attended to by a quaking servant, the bite on the back of his shoulder clear enough as his hair was brushed aside to continue washing his body. Soi Fon was being led to the Kennels, blood staining her own neck. It would seem that both had been properly Claimed.

A check on Harribel's household showed her and her girls had taken a rather large building, an old hotel by the looks of it. A check on Toshiro, however, showed him still in his war torn uniform sitting at the window and looking out at the orange tinted night sky. Harribel was downstairs, drinking sake laced tea. He should have known she would have been too much of a pacifist to finish the job, just like Starrk.

Ulquiorra had taken a small home as his own, both human women with him. He couldn't help but to smile in amusement at the knowledge of his Espada sharing a bed with Orihime while the other human woman glared hatefully at the wall. He had honestly not expected Ulquiorra to have Claimed Orihime. He couldn't wait to debrief Ulquiorra later and find out what had prompted him to take them both.

He wasn't shocked with Nnoitra's choice of pets, and wasn't even surprised to see him languidly exploring the woman he'd taken while they rested in bed. Tesra was on guard on the bottom floor of the two story house they'd taken over. There was no mistaking the bite mark on Rangiku's neck, located in a very obvious place for the world to see. She was stiff in Nnoitra's arms, but remained obediently by his side, doubtfully by her own will giving her disgusted expression. He wished he could share his sight with Gin so the man could see what had become of his childhood friend, although, doing so while the heated flesh of his cock occupied the mans' throat might not be such an opportune time to do so even if he could.

Checking on Grimmjow brought an amused smirk to his lips. The Sexta had taken Ichigo's sisters, no doubt in a vain effort to use them as bait. Grimmjow truly did have a one track mind. He didn't bother to try and check either girl for bite marks. None of his Arrancar would have slept with a child. It was one of their only taboos. He wondered how long Grimmjow would be able to put with the girls before booting them out, or killing them. Or at least one of them as you only needed one for bait. If they did last long enough, he would be amused to discover what Ichigo would think of the Sexta Claiming his sisters, for if they did amuse Grimmjow long enough to reach adulthood he had no doubt they would find themselves gracing the Espada's bed. The Sexta was well known amongst the female Numeros as being a rather active male and, unlike Nnoitra, used seduction to get them into his bed instead of force. There was no way the Sexta would be able to resist bedding Ichigo's sisters when they came of age out of revenge, if nothing else.

Szayel was next to check on. He wasn't too surprised to find the scientist holed up in the 12th, which also explained why most of the Arrancar had been avoiding it. Those that got too close to the 8th Espada tended to end up volunteering for whatever experiment he was conducting at the time. Several of the more observant Shinigami had taken shelter above the 12th, noting the lack of Arrancar presence. He wondered if they would do so knowing the beast that lurked beneath them.

Nemu had already been Claimed before they had gathered up, the female construct doing nothing to hide the bite mark on her neck. It took him a bit longer to find Renji, the redhead was secured somewhere in the depths of the 12th division and he was unable to find anyway to see the trapped Shinigami with his new sight as there were no windows or other such things open to the sky for him to peer through. Renji's reiatsu spoke of it being just as strong as when they'd left the meeting though, unlike the others who'd already been Claimed, leading him to conclude that Szayel hadn't Claimed the man yet either.

Yammy, the last of his surviving Espada, was holed up at the Kuchiki estate, currently settling down into a room to get some sleep. Moving his sight over, he found Byakuya, the noble currently gingerly getting into an outside hot spring with the help of a servant. There was no doubting Byakuya's obviously raped state, his thighs stained red, pink and white and the large bite mark on his neck was very predominate. Bruises were already starting to form and they looked like they were going to be dark. Aizen would confess he was surprised the Taichou had survived sex with Yammy, no one had before as far as he could recall.

Three of his remaining seven Espada hadn't Claimed their pets. That simply wouldn't do. He would not have Taichou class Shinigami running around free in his Empire. Unohana he trusted to behave, and if he was honest with himself, Jushiro as well. But he didn't trust Toshiro under pressure and he certainly didn't trust Renji at all.

With a sigh, he sent out a message, informing all of his subordinates that every Taichou class Shinigami was to be Claimed by noon, or executed. With that message sent, he transferred his sight around to the others who had left the city upon their arrival, curious to see what those who had forgone the chaos were up to. They had taken dens of their own, and one choice caused a slight smirk to touch his lips at the rather intelligent decision behind it. It would seem some of the Numeros had truly been paying attention to the lessons Tousen had given on how Soul Society functioned, for one of the younger Numeros, Sementall if he recalled the name correctly, had taken over the Omaeda estate and was, even now, in the process of Claiming the only visible surviving member of that Family. While the others were in the middle of hunting and Claiming pets with physical strength, the young stallion had gone for the other true power here; wealth. He would never have stood a chance against the Espada Claiming the greater noble families, so he'd gone for a rather wealthy middle class noble family. It was a rather wise move.

It would also seem the Arrancar was attempting to be gentle with the young woman, for the girl had almost no power to speak of and would be very delicate compared to the strength of any hollow.

 _Much like a beautiful flower_ , he thought amused.

Searching the rest of the homes revealed only one other Arrancar had taken a Claim from the civilian class, at least at this point. The others had simply chosen dens and seemed content to wait for further instructions, forgoing the free for all going on behind the white walls.

Satisfied for now, he opened his real eyes and returned his sight back to the balcony and the view it offered from here. His attention also returned to the man kneeling between his legs. With a wide smirk, he tangled one fist in Gin's silver hair and held him firmly to his crotch while he let himself shiver with release. Gin choked as his cum filled the mans' throat, a large amount going down into his stomach while the rest sprayed out the side of his mouth to stain Aizen's crotch as he coughed.

"Tisk, tisk, That was rude of you Gin," Aizen sighed, jerking him up by his hair and giving him a firm shake that resulted in a slight whimper of pain. "I believe you deserve a punishment for that, and I can think of just the thing," he smirked, tearing off a small piece of Gin's uniform before tossing him aside to land painfully on the floor. He used the scrap to clean himself before dropping the dirtied piece of cloth on the man's face. "Let's go visit your old Division, shall we?"


	10. Sementall and Mareyo

Just a reminder to the reader, or to those who haven't read all of POV yet or ignored the author notes. When I placed Sementall and Mareyo together, the only information and visuals we had of her was from an omake, which showed her to be Marechiyo's younger, teenaged sister, a petite pretty girl somewhere around sixteen. It would be literally years later, long after I had complete but was still posting POV 2, when she would show up officially in the Bleach manga with the appearance and attitude of an eight-year-old child. Therefore, even though I usually avoid adjusting characters to suit my story's needs, in this instance and because her introduction in PoV2 occurred long before Kubo's reworking of the canon character, Omaeda Mareyo appears here as a sixteen-year-old.

Sementall and Mareyo

Sometimes it was better, Sementall knew, to rely on one's blinders rather than try to see around them. They helped one focus on what was important, rather than allowing distractions to overwhelm a warrior intent on a goal.

The carnage, the fire, the violence and the mayhem inside of the walls… all of those things were just that: distractions. His blade dripped blood, but that was only because a few of the dumber Shinigami had tried to purify him upon his entry into the Soul Society. He'd summarily cut them down, treating them as nothing more than yet another obstacle standing in the way of something he wanted _very_ badly.

Strength was all fine and dandy, but hard currency was what paid for luxuries like food and shelter in _this_ place. That was the lesson Kaname Tousen had tried to pound into the heads of the Numeros, in preparation for the day that Aizen-Kami _ascended_ , whatever that meant. Sementall equated that word with 'won', something the ex-Shinigami had done handily in the past. Barragan Louisenbairn's deposer had promised that his supporters would have plenty of this 'currency', or would have the opportunity to earn it in order to live comfortably. Sementall understood what _wasn't_ being said. There was no guarantee that 'comfortably' meant the same thing to Aizen that it did to Sementall. His gut told him that whatever sum their ruler doled out might keep them in clothing and food, but the rest would be up to them.

The stallion had plenty of power, enough to subdue and rule over the majority of the Plusses here and the majority of the Shinigami. As he ignored everything but the task of getting through the Eastern Gate, he couldn't help feeling smug. Better to let the Espada haggle over the Noble Houses and the Taichou-level Shinigami attached to them. An ambush predator, Sementall knew better than to try for one of _those_ when it came to pets. Instead, he'd inquired about families with property and hard cash. Tousen had obliged the youthful Hollow, giving him the name of a clan that had produced a few Fukutaichou over the centuries, had a great deal of wealth thanks to their merchant status and hardwired avarice. It was the best of both worlds, in his opinion.

Once past the Seireitei's high stone walls the restless Arrancar made a beeline for the location of his target's mansion, his chestnut topknot trailing behind him like a streamer. The sudden quiet, in comparison to the cacophony he'd just left behind, seemed eerie, even if it was a good thing. It meant that he'd beaten the other Numeros to the punch. Almost all of them were engaged with the enemy. With his current head start, Sementall would have no competition for the prize he desired.

He arrived at the main gate to the Omaeda Estate and paused just long enough to use his _Pesquisa_ , to see what kind of opposition he might encounter. He detected only one entity that might be a problem, and that was being generous. The reiatsu levels of the rest barely registered. Then he remembered that a fine house like this probably had servants, fraccion-like Plusses that handled their betters' chores and errands. Their presence was proof of the vast riches this household had at its disposal. It would be best, he reminded himself, to keep from killing too many of them.

Two guards flanked the ornately painted gate. They eyed him apprehensively and both drew their weapons as he strode towards them. When he showed no sign of stopping, they tried to intimidate him by brandishing them, a gesture marred by the growing alarm in their eyes. Evidently, they'd never encountered a Hollow of his caliber before.

"S… s… stop right t… t… there!" the fool on the left stuttered as he levelled his spear at Sementall with trembling hands. The sentry on the right clutched his spear to his chest as if it were some powerful talisman against evil, a gesture undermined by the knocking of the guard's knees.

Sementall snorted derisively at such a pathetic show and before the visual distortion and sound of his Sonido faded, both lay dying on the ground, gurgling as blood poured from the cuts in their throats. He immediately amended his plan.

' _Correction, don't kill the competent servants.'_

Kicking the heavy doors open with one booted foot, he entered his new abode, ending up in the middle of the estate's main courtyard. The compound was spacious and well landscaped without being so large as to be indefensible. If anything, there were _too_ many statues and fountains amid the late autumn leaves. Used as he was to the cold, grand austerity of Las Noches, Sementall found the architecture and décor overwhelmingly gaudy, though he privately vowed to change the worst of it later. His first priority involved finding a member of the Omaeda Clan to Claim, which would allow him to take over without having to fight another Arrancar, per Aizen's rules. He'd prefer a female, but a male would do in a pinch…whatever got the job done.

The commotion drew more guards, and Sementall wasted what he considered valuable time cutting down the more aggressive attackers. That, he thought, was a shame, because the ones that showed enough backbone to charge at him had been the ones with the most potential. The rest, knowing they were outclassed, tried to keep the pointy ends of their blade between themselves and him and frantically looked about for a means of escape.

"What in the world is going on out there? What's this ruckus?" a voice bellowed from the door of the largest dwelling. The individual that stomped in his direction was much like the house: _very_ large and _very_ ostentatious, wrapped in a colorful silk garment that clashed with the color of his, or maybe her, purple hair. The string of pearls around the neck made him think 'woman', but the fur coat thrown around the shoulders screamed 'grizzly bear'. The Yammy-esque proportions and the facial features also made determining gender difficult and he eventually gave up trying.

"Who allowed this juvenile delinquent inside? How did you get in, brat?" the eyesore demanded.

The Arrancar, in turn, brandished his sword and resisting the temptation to count exactly how many chins those pearls concealed.

"I'm Sementall Fierro, Seventy-Eighth Arrancar in Aizen's Army!"

The reiatsu matched that of the only person here that might prove troublesome and he guessed that he'd found one of the family. Was it the head of the household? Tousen hadn't given him any specific names, only telling the stallion that the most dangerous of the bunch, the Omaeda that currently occupied a Fukutaichou's position, would likely be elsewhere.

"Omaeda Mareka. Now get the hell out of my house, you miscreant, before I toss you out on your ear!"

Well, he thought, here was the necessary family member, though the idea of Claiming _this_ beast left him utterly cold. He wasn't certain he could manage it without resorting to his Resurrección and _that_ would just be awkward. Pinning down an opponent would be problematic with hooves, even with the glamour he employed to lure meals to his side. Sementall ground his molars together, determined not to lose a den with such potential because of squeamishness.

"I will be taking this place as my own!"

"You _are_ an arrogant boy, aren't you," Mareka scoffed, before drawing a wicked-looking serrated knife from some hidden pocket within the furry coat. The blade was dirty, as if someone had just used it to slice through a side of beef. "I'll teach you to interrupt my dinner! Evening meals are sacred!"

For someone with more girth than reiatsu, his opponent proved surprisingly fast and flexible. The purple-haired horror suddenly materialized before him and he parried the thrust aimed at his throat, only to have a meaty fist sporting several heavy, gem-encrusted rings strike his jaw. His Hierro took the brunt of the damage, but the punch still knocked him back several paces. Then his foe was on him in a flurry of stabs, jabs and kicks. To his consternation, Sementall found himself on the retreat as each attack pushed him in the direction of the gate. Moreover, with the appearance of one of the heads of the household, a few of the guards recovered their nerve and closed in on him from the left and the right.

Sementall thought for a few awful moments that he might actually lose this fight and any chance at a cushy life. Thankfully, Kami must have had other plans for him. While he tried to keep from giving up any more ground, he spied two more Pluses as they entered the courtyard from the doorway. The first was a heavyset young man, around his own age, with seedy-looking eyes behind a pair of unfortunately styled glasses. He also bore a disturbing resemblance to the Omaeda currently trying to carve him up like a roast. The second was a pretty, slender green-eyed girl who cowered behind him. Because she looked nothing like the others, Sementall wrote her off as a personal attendant to what had to be one of the family heirs.

"Is everything alright?" the chubby one called out worriedly. His opponent's answer was short and waspish, enough so that both newcomers stiffened at the tone.

"Everything is fine! Marejirōsaburō, take Mareyo with you while I deal with this delinquent. You and you," and here Mareka left off trying to pummel Sementall long enough to snap orders at two of the closest guards, "do something useful and get my children out of harm's way, for Kami's sake! Tell Maremi she's to stay in the dining room until I get back!"

Faced with the option of staying in the courtyard to face a live Arrancar, several of guards decided to leave the fighting to their superior, their relief glaringly evident. The guards hustled their charges back the way the two had come, falling all over themselves in their hurry to get out of the way of the dueling blades. The furry nightmare snorted in satisfaction and then regarded Sementall as if he were a stain that needed erasing.

"Right, now where were we? Oh yes, I was about give you and that ridiculous hairdo of yours a lesson in etiquette, you filthy hooligan!"

Sementall had to replay the brief exchange, while dodging knife thrusts, before it dawned on him that the creature in front of him was expendable. The revelation that at least two of the younger, less experienced members of the family were in residence heartened him. He could kill this particular Omaeda and decide which of the runts to Claim instead. If he'd heard things correctly, at least one of them was a daughter. Wishing Tousen had given him names, rather than just a headcount, the Arrancar waited until the young man, the girl and their craven escorts had left before flaring his reiatsu in earnest.

Admittedly, the whole 'hooligan' thing smarted, as did the 'filthy' tag. Sementall knew he looked like a teenager, but that didn't mean he was a weakling or inexperienced. His pride was also at stake. He hadn't exactly been toying with the elder Omaeda, but when that serrated knife came at him again, the stallion dropped all of his earlier hesitation. His sword deflected a swipe from the knife and Sementall used the opening that created to aim high, rather than low. The edge of his blade slid between two individual pearls, piercing the monstrosity's fat neck and severing the threads that held the necklace together. His momentum made certain that it sank well past the point where it ought to have exited. Round, white gems and red droplets fell in a wide arc and he wasn't certain if the stunned look on his adversary's face was because of the loss of the blood or the jewelry.

Watching yellow blubber ooze in globules from the wound, followed by a gush of bright red arterial blood wasn't pleasant. His first fatal stab had gone all of the way through at least three chins, each sporting scraggly purple-grey hairs. The second stab, right through one goggling eye and into the brain, ensured that he wouldn't have to wait around, tapping his boot, while his foe bled to death. The remaining guards collectively gasped and scrambled backwards. Several servants had also witnessed the fight and he didn't want to get into anything with them unless it was necessary.

"This Estate and everything in it is now mine!" he shouted, addressing all within earshot and trying to sound as authoritative as possible. "You can go back to your duties, or you can join your former master in death. Choose one or the other!"

Most of them, servants and guards alike, stayed put. A few with the presence of mind to run bolted for the gate and he let them go. Sementall didn't care, as long as they did not interrupt his hunt. The Arrancar inhaled, trying to determine where, exactly, the boy had gone by scent. It was faint, but he caught a whiff of floral perfume, layered beneath the smell of a meat-heavy dinner. The knife-wielding behemoth had mentioned a dining room and he presumed that was the right place to start looking. As soon as he turned his back on the courtyard and entered the building, sword at the ready, he heard the Plusses behind him converge on the corpse of their late master. Then the noisy lamentations started and he picked up his pace, eager to get away from them.

The need to complete a Claim, any Claim on one of the Omaeda family became much more urgent when he arrived at what he hoped was the right place, from the savoury aromas. The three female housemaids standing in the hall blanched at his approach, lifted their yukata hems and fled. He slid the portal open to discover an opulent meal large enough to feed a reasonably sized pack of Hollows for a week, set for four persons. Wasn't the husky kid supposed to return here? If so, there was no sign of him, or of the guards with whom they'd left.

Only one of the sitting cushions sported an occupant. Moreover, that the lone diner was flat on her back, her fat face a dark blue color and laying far too still. The sight only added to the sinking feeling in his gut. Sheathing his weapon, he tiptoed over to a younger, equally bloated version of the Omaeda elder, this one with discernible breasts beneath her clothing. The aim was to see if she was still breathing. He even went so far as to hold his hand under her bulbous nose, trying to feel for an exhalation. Then, when that failed, he pushed a couple of fingers deep into the folds of fat around what he thought might be her neck, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing.

Sementall cursed, making a fist and bringing it down hard enough on the laden table to make the dishes and the food they contained rattle. Now he had not one but _two_ dead Omaedas on his hands and if this unfortunate specimen was the aforementioned Maremi, it was imperative that he find the son and cement his right to the manor. It was hard to tell exactly how she'd died, but from the number of empty plates at this end of the low table, his best guess was either choking, or a ruptured stomach. Maybe both. Were all of the Omaeda such gluttons? The evidence so far said 'yes' and the Hollow wondered whether he'd be able to keep an erection long enough to initiate a Claim, let alone complete the job.

Standing up straight, and shuddering, he also did some fast math. He'd slain one and the other was dead of asphyxiation. That left two place settings, the noodles on them half-eaten. The young man with the glasses and the tongue twister of a name would account for the third spot, but that left the last diner as an unknown. Tousen had listed six living members of the Omaeda family and Sementall assumed that with Aizen victorious and no Espada on the scene that _that_ individual was dead. Therefore, he still had the mother of this ugly brood and a fourth sibling to root from their hiding places.

Once away from the immediate smell of cooling food, he tried again, trotting down a corridor with far too many scrolls of painted landscapes and calligraphy hanging on the walls. The visual clutter gave him an immediate headache. Halfway to the end of it, he caught another whiff of the same perfume. It had to have come from the servant girl the Omaeda son had with him, since the dead woman in the dining room hadn't been wearing any. It was too bad that neither of them had the sort of reiatsu that would have made it easy for him to pinpoint their location. His base animal wasn't a predator that hunted with its sense of smell, but he did his best with what he had.

After several false starts, an unexpected side visit to a hideously appointed bathroom and a lounge he could only describe as a place where a thousand cheetahs had died for the upholstery, he caught the sound of the boy's voice. Putting his back immediately against the wall, he edged close to the corner and peered around it. The guards he immediately recognized, which meant that his quarry was nearby. Not wanting to tip off his prey, he used Sonido and several sword slashes to eliminate both the retainers and the time they would have had to sound an alarm. All died gurgling, though one got lucky enough to spear Sementall's sleeve, barely missing the Arrancar's arm.

He yanked the offending weapon from the cloth of his uniform and put an ear to the door.

"Don't be a prude Mareyo! You would like 'em if you just gave them a chance. I know you would! Come on, read just one chapter with me, please?" he heard a wheedling, nasal voice plead.

"No. How can you call this stuff literature? The pictures alone are awful!" a female answered. Sementall imagined the servant's nose wrinkling in disgust as she said it, until her next words, and the way she addressed him, made him reassess her role in the household. "Do Papa and Mama know that you have these sorts of books, and why aren't we with Maremi-nee? Mama told us to go back to the dining room, not your bedroom!"

The throat clearing on the other side of the barrier gave the stallion a few moments to process what she'd just said.

' _Mama? Papa? Does that mean she's… no, I can't believe it! There must be some mistake! That cute little thing is the last sibling?'_

Then a second realization hit him and he glanced over his shoulder.

' _Wait… Mama… Kami, was that warthog I faced the_ lady _of the house?'_

Shuddering, he put that aside to contemplate later, when he had fewer immediate problems. Moreover, he never learned the young man's answer, mostly because what patience he had with the situation had dwindled to near nothing. Gripping the wooden edge of the door, he pushed it open and strode into the room. The lighting was less than adequate, but he could still see that two of the bedroom's walls were lined with shelves that held what amounted to a small army of sculpted dolls no taller than the length of his hand. Most of them depicted cute, simpering human girls wearing pathetically impractical armour and carrying equally impractical weapons. The Arrancar deliberately refrained from comparing them to the likes of Tia Harribel or the Trés Bestias.

' _Those women don't simper… ever.'_

Their mutual shock at his entrance told Sementall that he _wasn't_ the person they expected to see. The girl backed away from him, towards a writing desk, while the smarmy youth dropped the books he'd been trying to press on his sister. The top volume fell open when it hit the floor, spine-first, and the additional light from the yard illuminated the photos on its spread pages. Its owner cried out in alarm and reached for the tome at the same time Sementall got his first good look at the pictures.

He nearly dropped the weapon in his hand when he saw the first photo. The second made his stomach roil when he realized that no, he wasn't mistake about the age of the child, nor what she was doing to the man in it. Three steps put the Arrancar next to the boy and he snatched the book from the sweating grub's hands the second the other picked it up. Three seconds was all it took to confirm what he'd seen. Three seconds after _that_ , a black-haired head, complete with its eyeglasses, thumped to the floorboards and a fountain of blood painted all of the figurines on the nearest shelf a bright red. The body once attached to it landed in a heap amongst the rest of the books, the offending paper soaking up the crimson fluid. The girl, Mareyo, gaped at her brother's killer and tried to stay upright by using the desk as a support.

Manor or no manor, _nothing_ could have compelled him to Claim such scum.

"Disgusting," he hissed, and then faced what he presumed was the last Claimable Omaeda. A few drops of blood splattered the left side of her pink and white flowered yukata, but she didn't seem aware of them. Instead, she kept staring blankly at the corpse. Sementall trod through the spreading puddle and gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, making her look at him when he asked, "Has this _filth_ ever touched _you_ in such a manner?"

"I… n... n…no," she stammered, leaning away from him as much as the desk would allow. He relaxed when he heard that and slid his Zanpakuto into its sheath with a 'snap!'

The smell of iron filled his nose, crowding out the young lady's perfume and he fought the urge to bare his sharp teeth at the body. Though she certainly wasn't a cub, he could only think of one reason why her older brother would have brought her here instead of the dining room, as his mother commanded. The seedy little fuck had probably thought that with everyone else in the household occupied with an intruder, the time was right to corrupt his younger sibling.

"That's good."

"You killed him…"

Her whisper sounded oddly loud in his ears. Sementall spat a second time on the dead pedophile's back and scanned the room, seeing the figurines and the wall full of books in a whole new, sick light.

"It's a better end than what he deserves!"

His scathing retort came with a vow to purify this place with fire, _lots_ of fire, and maybe he'd salt the earth once the ashes cooled. Then he heard her start to sniffle and turned to find her wiping her suddenly leaking eyes.

"He was still my brother," she whimpered and the Arrancar rounded on her fully this time, having had enough. One didn't tolerate or feel anything but contempt for those who would do such things to cubs, human or Hollow and her sorrow at the creep's fate made no sense to him.

"He was loathsome," Sementall corrected her and folded his arms across his chest, to drive the point home. "You are no longer required to consider him kin."

At that point she must have figured out what his presence might mean, because fear replaced the grief on her face, though the shock remained. Her big green eyes took all of him in, from the chestnut coloured ponytail to the mask fragments to the hard-to-ignore hole in the center of his chest. There they stayed, until they finally fixated on the sword at his hip.

"Are you… going to kill me too?"

"No, I need you alive. You _are_ Omaeda Mareyo, right? You sure as hell don't look like this turd," he snapped and nudged the body with the toe of his boot for emphasis.

He was reasonable certain she would say 'yes', but it was better to be sure than Claim the wrong person… not that he had many options left. The girl hesitated, and then nodded.

"I'm not pretty, like Mama and Maremi and I'm not terribly strong, like Marechiyo-niisan. Mama says I'll fill out eventually, but…"

Sementall could only stare at her, his left eye twitching at her self-description, as well as her self-depreciation. Was she brain-damaged, or maybe feeble-minded? Did she really consider herself ugly? Was the entire Omaeda Clan delusional? Either way, he was glad that he wouldn't have to search the remainder of the hideously decorated compound for anyone else and doubly glad that at least _this_ family member bore no resemblance to a wildebeest.

"Sementall Fierro," he replied, reasoning that an introduction was in order. "By Aizen-kami's permission, I am taking you for myself as a Claim, as is my right."

"Aizen won?" she breathed, fear creeping into her voice. "Is that true?"

"Yes. Aizen-Kami is now the ruler of the Seireitei and holds the Spirit King's Throne."

"My big brother Marechiyo?"

He almost pointed to the body on the floor, until he remembered that she was probably referring to the eldest of the Omaeda brood. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Dead, most likely. If he were brought back from the Living World, there would be an Espada here instead of myself."

In the privacy of his head, he added, _'_ _If he was anything like your mother the man would have been here defending his family._ _'_

Her face crumpled at this news and Sementall found that he actually felt bad about delivering it. From the copious amount of tears that welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, he could tell that she'd been close to the deceased Fukutaichou.

"What about… what about my Papa? What about Maremi-nee! You didn't kill her, did you?"

That took him aback.

"Ah… no. No, I didn't kill anyone by that name," he insisted holding up both hands. It _was_ the truth; he hadn't been the one to stuff whatever had clogged her windpipe into her mouth. As far as her father went, he had no idea where her sire was. If he'd been inside the Seireitei's walls, the patriarch would be too busy fending off the rest of the invasion force to make it here in time. It would be best if he secured the young woman now, lest her father arrive and decide to try to take back his holdings.

"I refuse to cast a Claim in this place. You will show me to your personal quarters."

For a moment it looked as if she was about to refuse, but between the glare he gave her, her revulsion for the books and her inability to look squarely at the corpse, it didn't take long for her to bow her head and hurry towards the door. Sementall followed, pausing only long enough to send a series of Ceros into the room, aiming for the body. He would return later to purge the rest of it with fire. Mareyo came to a halt when she saw the dead guards, but a push from him got her moving again.

Her reactions were that of an overly sheltered cub, even if she was no longer a child. None of the servants they encountered on their way to her chambers was foolish enough to challenge him and the few that tried to get Mareyo's attention scurried off when he flared his reiatsu. One even fainted, falling face-first to the hall floor.

They eventually arrived at a room that could only have belonged to someone that loved pink to the exclusion of all other shades. The ruffles were an interesting touch, though what really set this room apart from the others were the various pictures, figurines and drawings of horses. Thousands of white, embroidered ponies gamboled across the bedspread of a large, four-poster bed, complete with a matching dust ruffle and canopy. The motifs pleased him. Maybe he would enjoy having this girl as a pet after all, if she held all equines in such high regard.

"What did you do to my mother?" Mareyo asked once they were alone in her room. His hand froze as he fiddled with the latch that would keep the door closed, but the truth was out of his mouth before he stopped to think about what kind of effect it would have on her.

"I killed her."

She would have found out eventually, so there was no use in hiding what had happened, though in his defense he added, "She would not stand down. I warned her."

Unfortunately, that was the last straw. Mareyo's complexion took a turn for the gray and she collapsed onto the elaborate, four-poster bed, sobbing into the satin coverlet. Sementall shifted from one foot to another, uncomfortable with the display of raw sorrow and unable to do anything about it, as he was the cause. Omaeda Mareka might have been ugly as sin itself, but at least she'd fought him honorably, in defense of her den and deserved some respect for it.

"Plus souls bury their dead, right?"

He softened his tone when she sniffled and hiccupped, trying to get her crying under control. Eventually, she looked up at him, her eyes and nose reddened and rubbed her yukata sleeve across her face to dry a relentless stream of tears.

"We have funeral rites… it's a ceremony, to say goodbye," Mareyo said thickly and Sementall sighed. This wasn't exactly how he'd pictured his takeover of the Omaeda mansion going. In an effort to salvage things, maybe a small concession was in order.

"Then we will arrange such for her, in whatever manner you find pleasing."

There were a few more minutes of tears on the girl's part and he had to fight the urge to Claim her, before anything else could go wrong or intrude on what should have been a triumphant moment for him. Mareyo's sobs slowly turned to shuddering breaths and she eventually pushed her body into a sitting position. She also reached for one of her fluffy, pony-embroidered, pink-frilled pillows and hugged the thing to her like a shield.

"Thank you. What is going to happen now? You said that Aizen won. What does that mean for the rest of us?"

This he could answer. Sementall squared his shoulders and stood straighter. His wiry build wasn't as impressively muscled as some of the other Arrancar, but in this instance, the display was meant to convey all of the confidence necessary for a pack leader.

"In order to hold your estate, uncontested by any other Arrancar, I must Claim you myself."

"You mean, like you want to _marry_ me? To legitimize your stake on our ancestral home?"

He blinked at the assessment. It was more straightforward and accurate than he expected from a mere Plus, though her phrasing contained at least one unfamiliar word.

"What do you mean by 'marry'?"

It was her turn to act surprised and she worried her lip between her teeth before explaining the term, which turned out to be more of a recitation. Sementall suspected that it was something someone else had taught or forced her to memorize, rather than gaining the knowledge from actual experience.

"Marriage is when two people exchange vows, agreeing to be life partners and faithful to each other in a ceremony. They consummate the union," and here she paused and her already red cheeks darkened by a few shades, "that night and children soon arrive thereafter. It's usually a love match, but sometimes families arrange marriages for political and financial reasons, especially with the greater and lesser nobles and many of the wealthier families. Marriages and children often help stabilize relations and build alliances between clans."

The first definition sounded like a Mating Claim, whereas the other more closely resembled what he'd planned, at least as far as her riches were concerned. The rest was an unknown and maybe even irrelevant. He didn't know if Mareyo would, or even could bear him children. He was a Hollow and she a Plus. There were bound to be a few problems on that front. Still, what she lacked in reiatsu she made up for in beauty and if he were careful, he'd get to enjoy her in bed, something he wanted to implement immediately.

"Claiming is more like the second, without the rituals and the promises."

Mareyo looked away, twisting her hands in her lap as if trying to screw up enough courage to ask him another question. When it came, her voice was stronger, though still watery from all the crying.

"So… what happens with a Claim?"

"When one Hollow defeats another, the winner can either kill or Claim the loser, though sometimes the winner will take the loser's pack instead. It is very common to fight over females, since they are rare and therefore prized. When the battle is over, the victor pins the conquered Hollow and mounts the vanquished from behind. He then pumps his power into the other, taking a piece of the lower's power and leaving a little of their own power behind. If a female wins the fight, it's a little different, but the result is the same. A Claim binds the loser to the victor's will. It is a way to ensure loyalty from them."

Mareyo's eyes grew larger he spoke and to his dismay, all of the fear was back.

"You mean that you just _rape_ the loser? Is that what you plan on doing to me?"

She tossed the pillow aside and scrambled off of the bed, ready to run. With his best chance to secure a comfy den about to make a break for it, Sementall acted out of desperation. He reached down deep and let the glamour that was his in his released state out. It wasn't much, but he needed her to calm down, before she died of fright or did something to hurt herself. Most Plusses were delicate and required careful handling. If he screwed up and scared her to death, he doubted he'd find a better place without having to put up a nasty fight.

"It is not really rape to a Hollow, unless I take you face-to-face against your will."

"What's the difference?!"

"It's the eyes," he replied and tried not to roll his at her complete naivety. Desirable as she was, her fragility was a complication. He _could_ grab her, flip her over, remove her clothing, and take her now, but he feared doing so might result in her premature death, much as a mouse caught in the claws of a cat. Allowing more of his power out might be risky, but it would keep her from panicking and its mesmerizing effects would dull any terror.

He sat down on the bed and patted it, wanting her to join him. After a moment, she did so, sitting as far away from him as she could. He let it go for the moment and tried his best to explain what ought to be an exasperatingly simple thing.

"Most of us Hollows have masks that cover everything but our eyes. Vasto Lordes and Arrancar, like me, are the exceptions. The eyes are windows into the soul, or rather, into the soul that controls all of the other souls we've ever eaten. Among Hollows, only mates take each other in a position that allows them to look into one another's eyes. Besides, I didn't hear you say that marrying for politics was any less valid than marrying for affection. The vows are the same in both cases, right?"

His power had begun to take effect, because she stopped shaking and seemed to consider the points he'd brought up. Green eyes, half-hidden beneath her lowered lashes took on a certain sheen that had nothing to do with the waterworks she'd displayed earlier.

"What happens after you… after you Claim me?"

"Everything you own becomes mine as well. I do not have much knowledge on the running of estates and businesses, so you would be in charge of such things. The only thing I care about is living in comfort, and occasionally enjoying the spoils of war." He offered her a charming smile, meant to put her at ease, and then frowned when she refused to look at him. Mareyo's fingers worked the silk of the yukata she wore, twisting the fabric round and round in her lap.

"If I agree, you won't hurt the servants, will you?"

That took him aback, as did her miserable tone.

"I take it they serve your family. That makes them like… well, pack members. We call weaker Hollows that serve 'fraccion'. I won't have a problem with them unless they give me trouble or try to harm either you or me. If there are any you want gone, tell me. As I said, I will leave those things to you."

"You won't kill Maremi-nee or Papa either, if I agree?"

"Sure. I promise I won't harm a hair on your sister's head and I'll go easy on your father."

Sementall deliberately refrained from promising anything else. If the servants wanted to leave, he wouldn't stop them. Fewer mouths and all that, plus he wouldn't have to worry about looking over his shoulder every five seconds. The sister had ceased to be an issue and if her father survived and showed his face… well, he'd deal with the man when and if he became a real problem.

They sat in silence after that and he wished he could shift into his released state. It would have been so much easier. She'd be putty in his hands, or hooves, if he did.

"So, this is the part where you force yourself on me?"

She sounded utterly defeated and her insinuation stung. Sementall frowned and 'hmphed' at his implied lack of desirability.

"Look, I'm not going to lie to you. If not me, another Arrancar will see this Estate and he'll decide he wants it. He probably won't be as nice about Claiming you either. You'd be a plaything for him and that's all. Really, I'm your best bet."

Tears welled yet again in her eyes, but this time some resolve accompanied them, and when she started to undress, he knew he'd won. Mareyo trembled as she undid her obi and he saw her take several deep breaths. When she allowed her yukata to pool just below her breasts, he couldn't help admiring them. They were perky, round, as pink as the rest of the room and begged to be touched. He couldn't wait to squeeze them. Just thinking about tasting them made more than his spine stiffen.

"I will try my best not to hurt you," he promised as he toed off his boots and fumbled with the sash around his waist. Mareyo kept her eyes averted, but murmured 'okay' as she continued to strip. When the last of her clothing, including her sandals and tabi, hit the floor, she moved to the center of the bed and did her best impression of a turtle, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around her shins.

He crawled onto the bed after her, gently grasping one of her wrists with his hand. Mareyo flinched at the touch, but she didn't resist. Then he grabbed the other and pressed both of them into the pillows resting against the headboard. One of his knees nudged her legs apart and he knelt between them, his thighs keeping her from closing them.

The view was spectacular and it would have been better if she hadn't turned her head to the side and screwed her eyes shut. It was as if she expected that he was going to hit her or something, because her breathing became shallow.

"Leave your hands there. I'm going to prepare you."

Lifting his hands away from her wrists, he was gratified when she complied, though she soon had a death-grip on the pillows. White-knuckled, she refused to look at him at all.

That was fine. It wasn't as if he'd be making eye contact with what he had planned. His calloused fingers traced long lines down her body, stroking her breasts and causing a few quick convulsions when they hit ticklish spots just below her ribs. Finally, they reached the soft, neatly trimmed curls that covered and framed her sex. Mareyo whimpered when he parted her nether lips and gave her an experimental stroke with a fingertip. She was bone-dry and he made a face. Mounting her now would result in pain and possible tearing.

He _had_ told her that he was her best option and rushing this would make a liar out of him. If she struggled, out of a desire to escape any hurt he inflicted, he might irreparably damage her and he didn't want to risk that. Filling her with reiatsu would be dangerous enough.

Wrestling with his temper and instincts, he breathed on the skin just below her navel and pushed her thighs farther apart. The mixture of feminine musk, mixed with whatever perfume or lotion she'd used that day, hit him in a rush and his nostrils flared.

"Lay back and I'll get you ready. Don't fight it."

In truth, he had only one or two other recollections, from his nights as a solitary carnivore, of doing this with another female Hollow. In those instances, he'd not only eaten them 'out', but 'up' as well, satiating two different sorts of hunger with each encounter. This was different and he proceeded accordingly. Sementall waited until he determined that she wasn't going to hyperventilate or faint on him in the next five seconds before diving between her legs with his tongue.

Slathering her sex with his saliva was the first order of business. Mareyo shivered and squirmed at this first contact, but she didn't try wriggle away from him. The young woman's thighs tensed and pressed against his ears and the Arrancar quickly raised her hips higher. That forced her legs wider and allowed him to delve deeper. The whimpers he heard when he toyed with her clit made him wonder if she'd ever touched herself before.

Before long, those whimpers turned to barely audible 'ohs,' particularly when he slid his tongue into her newly wet entrance. Not all of the moisture he tasted within came from his mouth. Pulling back, he licked his lips clean. Without further ado, he placed his hands on her hips and turned her on her stomach. Hazy green eyes snapped open as he maneuvered her into an acceptable position and yanked not one, but two of the pillows on which she'd previously lain beneath her hips.

"Wha… what are…?" Mareyo stuttered, still not quite 'all there.' Sementall was more than ready to finish this and ignored her words. He quickly grasped her hips and rubbed the head of his shaft against her slippery sex. That seemed to bring her back to her senses, because she flinched when he pressed the tip into her. There it met with both a tightness that was just short of unholy and some resistance. She trembled and he stopped short, though it took all of his willpower not to fill her immediately.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked breathlessly.

She nodded vigorously, eyes still tightly shut and her grimace, half-hidden in the bedding, told him all he needed to know. 'Sheltered' didn't begin to describe her. 'Cloistered' was more like it. That was a pleasant surprise and unthinkingly, his fingers dug into the smooth skin. It was too much pressure for her delicate body and she jerked painfully in his grip. Sementall immediately dialled back his strength and muttered an apology.

There was no easy way around it, so he didn't bother. With one push, he buried his cock inside her, unable to suppress a groan. Mareyo cried out at the loss of her virginity and fresh tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, the droplets leaving dark pink circles on the coverlet. Her spine went rigid as he grazed her cervix, plunging as far into her soft, wet warmth as he could go. Finding a completely untouched female was more than he'd dared to hope for when he'd picked the Omaeda Clan as his target and he wanted to crow about his good fortune.

The unreal constriction was so good that he began pumping into her instinctively. He almost forgot to hold back, rocking into her repeatedly and groaning. It had been so long since he'd done this that he didn't think he could endure more than a short round with her. Thankfully, he'd have plenty of time to build up some endurance, when he didn't have a Claim to cast and he could spend a few quality hours between her spread legs. Most of all, he thanked Kami that the girl's mother and sister hadn't been his only choices.

"It hurts," Mareyo whimpered. Her wavering voice wrenched him away from the temporary bliss that had descended on him and he looked down to find her white-knuckled hands clutching the bedding. Realizing his mistake, he paused and spent a minute rubbing her lower back and stroking her shoulders, trying to get her to relax enough for him to proceed. The glamour might work to lower her inhibitions, but at this level, it couldn't block pain.

"The first few times will be uncomfortable until you adjust to fit me better. It'll feel good soon, I promise…"

With that, Sementall took a deep breath and used it as a distraction, bending forward far enough to brush her tawny mane of hair to the side. Even the back of her neck was pretty, a slender column just waiting for his mark…

Taking pity on her, he resolved to end things quickly. The whines emanating from the back of her throat swiftly turned to startled gasps, which dwindled into pleasure-laden moans as he resumed his thrusts, adding as much reiatsu as he thought safe with each deep slide forward. When his left hand snaked around her torso, cupped a breast and pinched her nipple, her channel suddenly grabbed his shaft and she pushed back against him involuntarily. The stallion took that as his cure to finish. Biting down on the back of her neck, he let go and allowed the rush of his orgasm to take him. Her blood and her reiatsu tasted lively for all its comparative weakness. Omaeda Mareyo was utterly delicious, as was the wail that accompanied her climax. Placing his hand against her belly, he felt the muscles under his fingers contracting in time with the pulsing of her insides.

It was difficult to say how long he remained inside of her, but his erection inevitably softened. He slid out and removed his teeth from her neck, licking the wound a few times to soothe it before untangling their bodies. Her hips remained draped over the pillows and he was gratified to see a thin ribbon of white trickled down the inside of her right thigh.

"You, and everything you are attached to, are mine now," he purred as he rolled over, stretching in post-coital bliss. Sementall wanted to take her again, once they'd rested and she'd had some time to come to terms with her new status as his pet. A day or two at most. Any longer than that would be unthinkable, he reasoned as his gaze settled on her flushed, naked body and dazed face.

With his Claim solidified, he also felt an odd jumble of grief, confusion, fear, shame, pleasure and guilt, layered with the fading vibrations of what he suspected was her very first orgasm. It took several minutes for Mareyo to sort herself out and when she did, she crawled to the far corner of the bed. There she curled up and used as many pillows as she could grab to create a barrier between them. The blanket at the foot of the bed went over the top, until all he could see of her were those green eyes, staring at him over the wall of the world's most pathetic fortress.

"You won't hurt the others now, right?"

' _This again…'_ he thought with some irritation and rolled over to lie on his side, propped up on one elbow.

"Not unless they do something stupid, nor will I let any other Arrancar attempt to harm you, or those that serve the estate. You have my word."

He meant it. He'd even spare that sire of hers if he came sniffing around, though all bets were off if the ass tried to kill him. No one was going to wrest his herd from him and live to brag about it. That left him with ensuring his property obeyed, starting with taking care of her body.

"Get some sleep," he suggested. "Claiming is tiring business. You will feel better in the morning."

He could have made her do it, but he wasn't certain how she would react to the loss of control. Instead, he pushed his natural ability the best he could, letting it calm her slowly, until exhaustion and shock at the cumulative events of the day proved too much for her. Once she was asleep, it was easy to keep her that way as he dismantled her temporary blanket shelter and pulled her limp body against his. There was no resistance and no sign of any disturbances outside that might signal that the staff or a raging father was about to mount a rescue effort.

His pet would accept her fate and her place in his bed in time, but it wouldn't be _this_ bed, or _this_ room. He'd find more suitable quarters after he rested. This bastion of ruffles was far too pink and frilly for his tastes. Sementall would leave this room to her as a personal sanctuary. The rest of the Omaeda Estate… no, the _Fierro_ Estate, would see a dramatic round of redecorating come morning, beginning with the nastiness in her older brother's smouldering room.

* * *

Huge hugs to those of you that took the time to review. This is the last ready to go chapter so I have no promises on updates from here on out, or that they will be posted in a chronological order.

Occupational Hazard: Yes, the Arrancar run rampant for a little while before Aizen reigns them in. It was mentioned in the first few chapters of POV 1 somewhere that they were reigned in after a few days.


	11. Destruction

Destruction

Jushiro watched with a heavy heart as his mother and siblings finished packing up their personal belongings. The few servants that the Ukitake family employed stayed busy running between rooms with laden arms and bundles of supplies. As the morning wore on, the help seemed near the breaking point, harried beyond words. His sisters were going back and forth, sometimes between one another and sometimes with their inner clotheshorses, about how much they could reasonably take with them into the middle Districts. The resulting chaos, while lively, only reminded Jushiro that after today, he might never hear their voices again.

Starrk hadn't wanted to kick them out, but aside from his mother, the rest of his family could not withstand the Primera's power for long. Jushiro's two youngest sisters were already showing signs of strain. As much as he hated to do it, it was either let them go or watch them perish.

He thought it ironic that their safety lay in leaving the inner Districts altogether. While things could get rough once one reached the Twentieth District, the hazards would not include regular encounters with Aizen's troops. The Arrancar wouldn't stray far from their leader and the novelties, like abundant food and luxurious dwellings, the closer settlements afforded. Starrk's reiatsu wouldn't be the only problem if they tried to stay. If Starrk and Lilinette decided to leave and take up residence in the Seireitei, there would be no one to stand in the way of a Numeros Claiming one of his sisters, in an attempt to upgrade his or her den. The Ukitake Estate was conveniently located and large, and it wasn't a matter of 'if' someone would take it, but 'when.'

That horrid thought kept him from voicing any objections when his esteemed mother decided to relocate the majority of her brood to a less conspicuous location. The woman in question knelt in front of a large carved trunk, sorting clothing into different piles. From what Jushiro could tell, she was making hard choices as to which of her kimonos and yukata would least stick out in a less prosperous District. The pile of plain clothing on her right grew by one gray yukata, a blue obi and a pair of linen tabi. Then she looked over her shoulder at him and frowned, the lines around her mouth deepening.

"Will you be all right dear?"

Her constant concern was something he'd taken for granted all these years. The idea of living without it, without her counsel and care, suddenly made his stomach feel as if it were full of lead, heavy and painful. What he did not want was to make her feel the same way, so he put on his most reassuring smile.

"I will be well enough, but I fear for you and my sisters," he confessed, his answer coming too quickly. Kiku put down an armful of clothing and rose from her crouch to stand. Then she picked a path around boxes and piles of folded bedding to embrace him. Jushiro rested his cheek against the top of her white-haired head in turn. Thankfully, she could not see him wince. Bending even that far was painful and his muscles complained the longer he held the pose. He was still only half-healed, despite Unohana, his mother's and Nanao's ministrations. In addition, there was the whole business of the Claim, the stresses of which he deliberately kept hidden from her.

One did not share these sorts of things with a parent.

"Don't be such a worrywart, Jushiro. We'll be much better off where we are going. Remember to take your medicine daily and to keep an eye on poor Nanao-san. Shunsui's death is a terrible blow to us all, but it seems to have hit her the hardest. Oh, and you mustn't forget to grieve yourself. Please don't bottle it all away," she gently admonished. "Shunsui would be the first one to tell you that."

He wished he could say 'I know, and I will,' but his tongue fumbled over the words. Starrk had gone back to the battlefield and picked up the body, returning with it. The Primera had informed him and Nanao that he intended to give Kyoraku Shunsui a proper burial once Aizen had called his upcoming meeting to a close. Kami evidently expected everyone to appear at the 1st Division, per the Kido-based broadcast earlier that morning. The message had been short and not exactly informative, but the black smoke still billowing into the sky from behind the Seireitei's walls made him dread what he would find.

"We will be okay, Nii-san, it will be just like going on a long vacation," one of his younger sisters piped up from the doorway. His mother stepped back and allowed the girl to take her place, her slender arms wrapping around his shoulders. "I know you will come to visit when you can."

"I'll do my best," he agreed, hugging her tightly. He might not actually have the ability or the opportunity to do so, and therefore he kept from making any further promises.

"Oi, you lot ready to go?" Lilinette demanded. She'd apparently followed his sister and now leaned against the doorjamb, her impatience unmistakable.

"As ready as we will ever be," Kiku answered, not the least bit put out by Lilinette's gruffness. Some days, he wondered if anything could throw his mother for a loop. It certainly seemed to him that she managed to take every emergency in stride, including every one of his coughing fits and attacks, from childhood to the present day. His mother returned to sorting. When finished, she placed her ornate silk kimonos back into the chest and piled the smaller stack of drabber, more practical garb into a smaller basket, which Jushiro carried for her to the foyer. Outside, the servants relayed each chest and bundle to a hired wagon. Soon his family and the baggage would climb aboard for the uncomfortable ride to a more rustic District.

Starrk watched all of this with a morose expression, from a spot he'd staked out near the front gate. When the head servant had accounted for the last Ukitake daughter and box of household goods, the Espada got to his feet and walked to the front door. He scratched the back of his neck and addressed Jushiro, though his eyes remained on Lilinette.

"I will be back as soon. Remain here and get ready for Aizen-kami's meeting," Starrk ordered. Jushiro concluded that he might have meant the instruction for both him and the Primera's smaller half. "You have my permission to defend the den from any intruders."

He wanted to go with them, but he hadn't fully recovered yet and he would only show them down. Worse, if Aizen ran meetings the way Yamamoto ran them, he'd be on his feet for hours, or worse. He needed to prepare, mentally and physically, for such an ordeal. Aizen was the sort to gloat and after such victory, there was no telling how long the bastard would pontificate. There was also the matter of leaving Nanao alone with so many Arrancar running around freely. The Fukutaichou was strong enough to fend off most of them under normal circumstances, but in her current mental state...

"Does Ise-san need to come too?" he asked. Nanao hadn't left her assigned room since he'd awakened, according to his mother. Kiku also informed him that the woman had eaten, even if it was only half a bowl of _udon_ and several _mochi_ at lunch. It was better than nothing and a sign that her military training had prompted her to seek nourishment, if only to keep her reiatsu levels at their optimum during a period of high danger. She was not the sort to let sorrow sidetrack her in a time of crisis and for that, he was grateful.

"This time," Starrk replied and then shrugged. "As for the future, I'm not certain if Aizen will require her presence."

Jushiro interpreted that to mean that Starrk knew as much as he did, which was damned little. There was nothing left to do after that but to say his goodbyes. He also bowed deeply to the servants that had chosen to accompany the Ukitake tribe into exile, in gratitude for their staunch loyalty. Starrk and Lilinette led the little caravan away after that. Jushiro kept his eyes on the street long after the cart had turned the corner and used the heavy post of the Estate's gate to keep his body upright. He discarded the thought of running seconds after it presented itself, brushing it away as one would an annoying insect. The Claim around him meant he wouldn't get far and he valued his family too much for such a futile act. Starrk had already demonstrated, at Jushiro's request, the power of that bond and he swallowed hard when he remembered what it was like to feel someone else take complete control of his physical form.

No, he did not want to experience that kind of helplessness ever again.

After half-an-hour of unproductive loitering, he gave up and did his best not to inhale too deeply. The air was hazy with the smoke that had escaped the Seireitei and he could taste the char on his tongue. Breathing the tainted air for too long might send him into a relapse. Erring on the side of caution and not wanting to know about what might still be burning, unseen, on the other side of the great walls, Jushiro returned to his quarters to take a much-needed shower.

When he opened the door to his room, he discovered one of his older, overly formal kimonos and its matching obi laid out on his still-unrolled futon. It was one of his better civilian garments too and its reappearance reminded him of just how long it had been since he'd had any occasion to wear it. The motif of embroidered green pine boughs on white silk was one of only two winter ensembles he owned and he wondered how long the little Arrancar had to dig through his possessions to find it. In truth, he'd wanted to wear his uniform, but Starrk had nixed that and Lilinette had insisted on the kimono… or, as she put it, _else_.

Jushiro wasn't sure he wanted to find out what 'else' might entail.

That made him think about the Estate's only other non-Hollow occupant. Had Lilinette picked out Nanao's clothing too? The Fukutaichou's things were, to his understanding, still at the 8th Division, so whatever his new masters wanted the woman to wear had most likely come from among his sisters' castoffs.

It took almost an hour to scrub away the grime and dried blood from his body. His mother and Nanao had cleaned up the worst part of the mess, but he still wasn't what he would consider clean. The shower could only do so much and Jushiro wished he had another hour to soak his tired muscles in a tub of hot water. Instead, he reluctantly dried himself once the water streaming from the showerhead grew tepid.

After dressing, he wracked his brain to remember which room now belonged to Nanao and when that failed, fell back on tracking her down via her reiatsu. Once there, he rapped on the doorframe to announce himself, only entering when he heard her acknowledge him from the other side of the door. He expected to find the woman curled on her futon, a study in misery, but that was not the case.

Nanao's dark hair was damp and she was in the process of clipping it up in its usual style. Her eyes remained puffy from crying, but otherwise she looked as prim and proper as ever. He was surprised to see her wearing Shunsui's pink _haori_ over a subdued gray yukata. The thing was clean save for a few faint blood stains that he doubted would ever come out no matter how often it was washed. Someone had mended it as well, and since his sisters and his mother had been busy packing, he guessed that Nanao had been the one to stitch up the tears. The garment was much too large for her and when she stood the hem touched the ground, but she didn't seem to care.

"You seem… much better."

Her critical gaze raked him, starting with the top of his head and ending with his feet. It was obvious she was looking for any signs of ill-treatment, much as he'd just done to her.

"Thank you. I feel better," he replied, then gently asked, "How are _you_ doing?"

She hadn't given him permission, but he gingerly took a few steps towards her, partly to get a closer look at her. Grief clouded her features, before she schooled them again, affording a brief glimpse of the turmoil beneath her controlled exterior. "As well as I can, I suppose. It's just…"

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence and hung her head, turning away lest he see her start to cry. Jushiro rushed to her side and before she could tell him anything to the contrary, grasped one of her arms. He drew her to her feet and into his embrace. Nanao stiffened, and then returned it when she realized she wasn't the only one with eyes full of saltwater.

"I miss him," she whispered into the front of his kimono. There was no need to elaborate on whom she meant. "I can't believe he's gone. If not for this," and here she plucked with one hand at her too-long pink sleeve, indicating the haori, "I would still expect him to come through that door, bottle and cup in hand, with that ridiculous hat…"

One of his hands rose tentatively, not sure if he should stroke her hair the way he would one of his sisters, or give her some space per their usual professional statuses. When she did not pull away, he threw caution to the wind and placed his hand on her head. He hoped that she'd interpret it as a fatherly gesture. She needed to know that someone else was hurting as much as she was, and if he was honest, Jushiro needed this as well, with his family's departure for parts unknown.

' _As long as we don't drown our collective sorrows in strong drink, we should be able to cope,'_ he thought, knowing how Shunsui would have reacted if he were in their shoes. Neither of them could afford the luxury of liquid painkillers at present. As painful as he found it, he also needed to give her some information.

"Starrk retrieved his body from the city," Jushiro muttered against the top of her head, fixing his eyes on the wall. "We'll bury him tonight, if possible. I know that this might be asking too much, but is there a place you think would be good for a memorial marker?"

"Behind his favourite distillery, among the casks."

Nanao's mumbled reply wasn't hesitant and it made him chuckle weakly.

"I think he would enjoy that a little too much, with all of those accidental spills."

This time both of them smiled wanly at the image that conjured. Nanao shook her head, probably to dispel it and her shoulders slumped.

"Traditionally, he would be buried on the Kyoraku Estate, but… well… he was never that close to his family."

He was suddenly glad she was too short to see his face, because she might not take the grimace his mouth made very well. Starrk had informed him that the Second Espada, Barragan Louisenbairn, had taken that manor for his den. According to both halves of the Primera, Shunsui's immediate family was likely dead and the rest scattered. Moreover, no Hollow would allow a rival anywhere near his or her abode for something as frivolous as a burial. Lilinette treated the idea scornfully. Coyote Starrk was a bit more diplomatic about it, but in the end, had explained that Hollows ate the dead and then forgot them. There were no memorials, save in one's stomach.

"There's always his favorite tree on that one hill overlooking the Shinōreijutsuin. I'd often find him sleeping beneath it, particularly when it was time for him to do the monthly acquisition reports." Nanao looked up at him then and added, "It's pleasant there, in the summer. I think he'd like it there, under the shade of the branches."

He knew the tree she was speaking of, had known it since long before she was born. It had been a favourite spot of theirs since their days at the Academy, and laying Shunsui's ashes to rest there sat well with him.

"I think that's a fine idea. He always did like the view."

"Oi, you two ready to go?" Lilinette bellowed from somewhere near the main gate.

They immediately stepped away from one another and turned towards the door. Nanao used her sleeve to dab discretely at the corners of her eyes, while Jushiro employed a few fingers. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. The Espadas' return meant the Primera had escorted the Ukitake family for as long as their limited time allowed. Jushiro breathed deeply, testing his lungs. They still sounded reedy, but the feeling of imminent suffocation and the need to cough were absent. Nodding to Nanao, he led the way through the nearly empty estate, back through the front door and down the gravel path to the main gate.

Lilinette was alternately pacing and tapping her foot impatiently, while Starrk dozed against the trunk of a tree growing just inside the gate. With his arms folded across his chest and his eyes closed, he seemed to be a counterpoint to his partner's irritable energy. When the girl saw them approach, she came to a halt and scrutinized them, probably to make certain they were dressed as ordered. They must have passed inspection, because she promptly pivoted on her heel, stalked over to her taller half and kicked him in the shins. The she punched him in the gut.

Starrk's pained yelp was _almost_ worth it.

"Oi wake up, it's time to go, ya lazy git!" Lilinette shouted, inches from Starrk's ear when he bent over from the blow.

Starrk growled and grumbled, but pushed away from the tree and straightened his spine. As he did so, the sleepiness and pain evaporated, and he regarded Jushiro and Nanao with a serious expression. His next words carried an unmistakable warning.

"I don't know what we are going to find on the other side of that wall, but it's probably not going to be pleasant. Kami-sama may have let us take you as pets, but if you act up, he won't hesitate to punish you himself. I can't and won't interfere. Just stay quiet, unless he speaks to you and don't do anything stupid, or rebellious."

The numbness in Jushiro's stomach from earlier grew a little colder as he listened, knowing the advice was more for Nanao than him. Starrk could render him silent in an instant, but his control over Nanao was in name only. If she couldn't keep her tongue, Aizen might order Starrk to Claim, and probably kill the Fukutaichou. Jushiro would gladly get down on his hands and knees a dozen times a week to prevent that from happening.

Per Starrk, Jushiro knew the Primera had already told Nanao what had happened to Shunsui, and about Starrk's involvement. He could not read her mind, and part of her reaction to the news might be due to shock, but he was under the impression she did not blame the Primera nearly as much as she blamed Aizen. Jushiro had heard Starrk's admission himself, that if not for Aizen's interference, the monstrously powerful Hollow would have remained in Hueco Mundo indefinitely and the Soul Society unaware of its existence.

There were people on the streets, but they moved as if they expected something to jump out at them at any moment. Starrk and Lilinette attracted the most attention, but the majority of the Plus souls they encountered paid Jushiro and Nanao little heed. Without their uniforms, he and the Fukutaichou resembled nothing more than a pair of well-dressed minor nobles, not Shinigami. Whether Lilinette had anticipated and chosen their attire for this reason, he couldn't say.

The acidic, choking smoke grew thicker as they moved past the gate. Once inside, Jushiro stepped from a bad dream into a full-blown nightmare. He and Nanao froze, taking in the multitude of corpses piled high near the entrance, on both sides of the great portal. The formerly white paving stones had turned brown with darkening, congealing blood and flies formed seething black clouds over all of it, as far as he could see. He had expected a mass slaughter, had tried to prepare for the horrors, but as Starrk and Lilinette ushered them through the city, the only word that came to mind was 'genocide.'

Somewhere to his right, he heard Starrk say "Breathe." His lungs obeyed the Espada's instruction, though Jushiro did not remember holding his breath at all, and the result was a round of coughing. A smaller frame slid beneath one of his arms and Nanao's face, devoid of anything but grim purpose, swam into view.

"Ukitake-Taichou, we have to keep going," she murmured. Jushiro wished he could say something, anything to her, but his raw throat wouldn't form the words. Therefore, he let her drag him forward, through the maze of stinking death towards the 1st Division.

' _Is anyone still alive?'_ he wondered, as each turn revealed new, ghastly sights. There seemed to be no end to the bodies, to the broken, scattered Zanpakuto and pools of blood.

When they neared their destination, Jushiro finally saw signs of life, answering his unspoken question. Unfortunately, none of what he saw was encouraging. Here and there, he spied armed Numeros herded ragged groups of Shinigami through the wide-open gates of the 1st Division. They moved like zombies, with stricken expressions and covered in soot from the fires. They also clutched the remains of their shredded clothes to their bodies like shields, especially the women.

Aizen had yet to make an appearance. As more arrivals crowded the courtyard, the Numeros busied themselves by setting up a perimeter. In contrast, the Shinigami leaned against one another, or collapsed, falling to their knees when they could no longer stand. Some had huddled together and others sat alone, all equally trapped, equally miserable. The exceptions belonged to those Shinigami sporting the green utility sashes of the 4th Division. Led by Iemura Yasochika, the healers darted here and there, patching up the remnants of the Gotei 13. Jushiro spent his time doing a quick headcount and came away with a disheartening figure. The 4th Division accounted for a full fifth of the remaining Shinigami. The next largest group wore the laboratory coats the 12th Division assigned their researchers, but that squad had never been particularly large.

At first, he was at a loss to explain why so many of the 4th Division were still on their feet and unharmed. Then Starrk supplied an answer that shocked and appalled him.

"Aizen declared he would take the Taichou of the 4th Division, the healer with the braid, as his mate."

"What? Why? That makes no sense!" Nanao gasped. Starrk's eyes narrowed and she drew back, suddenly aware of her outburst. Jushiro wanted to second that, but thought better of it. The announcement made no sense to him either. In all of the years that he had known Aizen Sousuke and Unohana Retsu, he could safely say that he'd never noticed any kind of sexual attraction for one another. Respect, yes, but desire? No, there had to be some other reason, one that did not include romance, though he suspected the 4th Division's continued health had something to do with it. Lilinette nudged him with her elbow, though not hard and pointed towards the elevated walkway. Yamamoto-Soutaichou had used it to address his assembled Division each day and that was where the Primera guided them.

The rest of the Espada and their captives already occupied it and Jushiro jaw clenched when he saw the others' various states. Hitsugaya Toshiro looked tired but intact, doing a good job of keeping up a professional demeanour. The only thing missing from his person were his Zanpakuto and his haori. Kuchiki Byakuya, on the other hand, was clearly in pain. He also wore a woman's kimono, and one meant for a young woman at that, the long furisode sleeves making silk puddles to either side of his kneeling form. Soi Fon appeared livid, with her arm in a sling, though she remained silent, probably due to a Claim-enforced order. Their eyes briefly met and Jushiro felt a little burned by the rage he saw in her gaze. He could only imagine what Barragan had done to her. The only completely undamaged Taichou was Unohana. From this distance, all he could tell was that she wore her full uniform, including her haori. Rather than kneeling with her fellow captives, she was hard at work among the incoming survivors. Every now and then, he caught a glimpse of the bright, healing Kido as she used it on an injured Shinigami.

The lower ranked officers had fared little better. Rangiku knelt, head down, next to the tall Espada with the too-wide grin. What he could see of her face alternated between fury and depression. Ayasegawa Yumichika seemed better, but that might only be because of his experience with the 11th Division and his former life in the outer Rukongai. If one survived either of those blisteringly violent environments, their current circumstances might not seem so insurmountable. At least, that was what Jushiro hoped. The Second Espada paid the 5th Seat no mind, acting as if neither Yumichika nor Soi Fon mattered to him at all.

A tug on his sleeve from Lilinette, and a jerk of her small chin indicated that he should mimic the others. With Nanao's help, he sank to the boards and arranged the folds of the kimono around his bent knees. She did the same, staying close in case he needed her assistance. From this vantage point, Jushiro could see just how few Shinigami, officers and non-seated troops, remained. He wanted to examine each face and uniform in the crowd below, to see how many of the 13th Division had managed to get through the invasion. He thought he identified about twenty of his troops, but the poor state of many of the uniforms made a full count impossible. Worse, he could not feel the raucous energy of his 3rd Seats.

A majority of the Arrancar had a Shinigami beside them, most with obvious bite marks on their necks, evidence that Aizen's forces had Claimed more than just the officers on the platform. Toshiro's case in particular bothered him greatly. Jushiro couldn't help but think of the other Taichou as a child, despite knowing the white-haired youth's true age. It all reinforced his understanding that compared to what the others had undergone Starrk had treated him gently.

Suddenly the huge double doors of the 1st Division's main hall opened and Aizen strode through. No one else was with him and Jushiro pondered what Gin's absence might mean. At the same time silence fell across the courtyard, save for the sobs of those unable to hold back their tears. The traitor was back to his normal appearance; the strange transformation he'd undergone just before he'd Ascended had dissipated and he smiled beatifically down on the assembly, sweeping his arms wide.

"Excellent, everyone is here. Let's get started."

Jushiro felt another surge of horror. There had to be five or six hundred Shinigami gathered here and that was being generous. If that meant the rest had perished... The implied death toll almost made him physically ill. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see how pale his colleagues had become. Soi Fon's death glare faltered briefly, before intensifying and one of Rangiku's hands went to her mouth. Nanao's complexion took on a greyish cast, though she kept scanning the ranks.

"As you can clearly see, I have won, and ascended to become Kami. However, the Realms will not balance themselves. Therefore, if you are not serving your new owners, you will strive to fulfil your original duties. I will remind those here that your most sacred task is to protect the Spirit King and I will expect nothing less than your best in that endeavour… unless there are those who wish to retire?" He uttered this in such a way that left no doubt in anyone's mind that 'retirement' was a euphemism. "For now, those who have not been Claimed, and who do not belong to either the 4th or the 12th Divisions, shall remain here in the 1st Division barracks until I reassign you. This brings us to the subject of leadership."

Aizen put both hands behind his back and regarded the Espada expectantly. All save for Barragan and Yammy perked up.

"I want at least two of your pets to lead the reformulated Divisions. Is anyone willing to let me borrow them as needed?"

Starrk spoke up before Jushiro had a chance to ask him to do so, or express any gratitude. Having some small amount of authority in mending the disaster that had befallen the Gotei 13 would ease his soul slightly. Had the Primera sensed his desire through the Claim, or was it expedient on Starrk's part? He wasn't certain.

"You can have mine," he yawned. Lilinette reacted by glowering at Starrk, likely irked that he'd thwarted whatever plans she'd had for Jushiro's time, but kept quiet. If she had any protests, she kept them to herself in Aizen's presence.

"My pet will serve you as well."

This came from Harribel and there was no reluctance in her tone. Toshiro blinked in surprise and turned to stare incredulously at the blond Espada, though like Lilinette, he raised no protest at Harribel volunteering him.

"Good. I'm pleased with your generosity."

Aizen took a few steps towards the edge of the platform and raised his voice anew. "The rest of you will begin the process of cleaning up and rebuilding. In the coming days, my Numeros or I will inform you of the new rules regarding your conduct and responsibilities, as well as your statuses in my realm. You will know them inside and out by the time I give you your new assignments. Today is the first day of a new era of perfection in my kingdom and you will all work to further its goals."

It was as good as a dismissal for the rank and file. Aizen retreated and with a gesture, indicated that the Espada and their captives could go too, though he held up one finger and pointed it at the First and the Third.

"Starrk, Harribel, I will require your pets' presence for several hours. Leave them with me. I will send them home when I'm finished with them."

Harribel and Starrk bowed, complying with Aizen's order. If they had any qualms about it, they remained unspoken. Meanwhile, those in the courtyard without Claims tried to organize themselves as best they could and Jushiro heard Iemura's raised voice, shouting directions to someone. Nanao slipped her hand briefly into his and squeezed it. He squeezed back, in effect telling her he would be all right. Both halves of the Primera spirited the woman away, though whether they meant to take her back to the Ukitake Estate or more likely help her track down any living subordinates, he could not tell. Eventually, only he and Toshiro remained on the platform, the other former officers dragged away by their captors. There had been no chance to say anything to any of them.

Unohana joined them after the collected Espada departed. Jushiro wished he could ask her what the hell she was thinking, marrying such a monster. Toshiro's eyes hardened when she approached, but like him, had enough self-discipline to wait and see what would happen.

"Come with me to my new offices. I presume you know the way."

He exchanged a look with Toshiro, but followed Aizen through the doors. He felt Unohana's presence behind them. She said nothing until they reached the Soutaichou's office and he wondered why she was there, when she was so obviously needed elsewhere.

The answer turned out to be 'playing hostess.' Once inside the familiar room, she went to a sideboard that Jushiro knew from experience held several expensive tea sets and Yamamoto-Soutaichou's collection of teas from the Living World. While she used Kido to heat a kettle of water, the usurper gestured to a pair of chairs someone had placed before the desk. This too was familiar – he and Shunsui had occupied those chairs many times, for many reasons, over the last millennium – but seeing Aizen Sousuke in Yamamoto's place was both surreal and nauseating. His disgust did not keep him from gingerly taking his seat, mostly out of long habit.

He was, unfortunately, unprepared for what happened next. Aizen's fingers grasped the edge of his kimono's neck and pulled it aside. The smug traitor made an approving noise when he saw the bite on the back of Jushiro's neck. Then he did the same to Toshiro, though he frowned as he got a good look at the smooth flesh. Rage equal to what he'd seen in Soi Fon flared in Toshiro's eyes and for a second, Jushiro thought the youth would round on the traitor and attack the man for touching him. His neck had no mark and the older Shinigami hoped that maybe he'd been spared. Aizen's chuckle quickly disabused him of that notion.

"Ah, of course, _Harribel_ would not need to bite you to Claim you. However, I trust one has been cast?"

"Yes," Toshiro admitted after an uncomfortable moment of silence. The flush on his face confirmed that this 'Harribel' had had her way with him. Satisfied, Aizen took his seat behind the desk, and partook of the tea that Unohana placed before them. Neither Jushiro nor Toshiro touched their steaming cups. Eventually, the new Spirit King deigned to speak to them.

"By now I'm sure your Masters have told you that _you_ , along with your fellow Taichou, are to be Claimed at all times. If the Claim fades, I _will_ execute you without delay."

They answered "Yes" in unison and Aizen smiled, while Unohana discreetly moved to stand next to the door. He laced his fingers together and rested his clasped hands on the desk in a businesslike manner.

"Very well. I have a list of commands for your Masters and you will convey them this evening. The list includes suggested punishments for insubordination, should you ever think to betray me, or attempt to use your positions to stir up a rebellion, up to and including the complete slaughter of your respective Divisions. I am not Yamamoto Genryusai and I will not tolerate the sort of… shenanigans and indulgences he put up with from many of those who professed to lead. I will show no leniency for any breach of the rules."

"There are enough Shinigami remaining, apart from those attached to the 4th and 12th Divisions, to staff three reduced Divisions. Once I re-establish the Shinōreijutsuin and amend its curriculum, I will begin adding its graduates to those Divisions. As the new Spirit King, I will assume the office of Soutaichou and take command of the First Division, as well as the Kido Corps. You," and here Aizen indicated Jushiro with a wave of his hand, "will helm the 2nd Division and Hitsugaya Toshiro will lead the 3rd Division. You will answer to me as you did the late Yamamoto Genryusai."

A sidelong glance revealed Toshiro's blush long gone. In fact, the young man's lips pressed together into a thin, unhappy line. Aizen's anger at Gin's last-minute betrayal was no secret, but Jushiro hadn't expected him to exact revenge on Ichimaru's Division members. Had the 3rd Division been truly decimated during the invasion, or had something far worse befallen those that had once looked up to Ichimaru Gin? Moreover, Toshiro had openly despised Gin. Was this appointment a dig at the former, the latter or both officers? Jushiro knew better than to ask. When Toshiro slowly nodded, signalling his agreement, Aizen's smile broadened, until it became positively beatific.

"Now that you have your assignments, I want you to take a count of the surviving Seated and Unseated Shinigami. They are to collect their belongings tonight and return here no later than one hour after sunset. Do not include the Claimed in your count – whether they return to their duties or not is up to their new owners. You will deliver these reports no later than tomorrow evening. I do not expect anything from you, Unohana Retsu, unless one of your people desires a transfer to a different unit."

A full casualty report would take time to compile, which explained the extended deadline. He did not look forward to putting that list together, not wanting to read all of the familiar names as casualties. Some might have managed to escape; Jushiro would not put it past the members of the Onmitsukidō to go to ground, waiting for a chance to strike back. There were also the Shinigami assigned to specific geographical places in the Living World, who might not know what had happened yet. Jushiro fervently hoped that if they encountered any of the Arrancar sent to fetch them, they had the sense to run.

The rest of the meeting was blessedly short. Aizen handed them their new haori, with the appropriate kanji embroidered on the backs and gave them their first task. Starting immediately, they were to assist the rest of the un-Claimed Shinigami in cleaning up the battle debris and disposing of the dead. Their new leader wanted the bodies gone before rats, scavengers and disease got a foothold within the Seireitei's walls. The only concession Jushiro managed to wrest from Aizen involved allowing the individual Divisions to cremate their dead members, sorted by the insignia on their uniforms, rather than dumping the bodies into indiscriminate heaps and burning them. The deadline for this mirrored the casualty report, meaning the survivors would light the pyres the following evening.

With that, Aizen dismissed them and Jushiro spent the rest of his day numbly assisting the macabre sorting of corpses. As the day wore on the number of 13th Division casualties grew longer. He never did find the remains of Kotetsu Kiyone or Kotsubaki Sentaro. Not knowing what had become of them or how they'd died was both a blessing and a curse, in that his final memories of them would be pleasant.

Starrk retrieved him at sunset. His crew had gathered up many of the dead, but others would have to work throughout the night to finish the job. Between the fires, the explosions and the various energy-based attacks the Arrancar used, there might never be a good reckoning of the dead. A low-level Shinigami hit by a Cero might disintegrate upon contact and there was no telling how many would end up with the designation 'missing in action.'

They walked through the wreckage in silence, passing through the gates and out into the Rukongai and once he was out, he treated his lungs to some less-sooty air. Starrk finally broke the silence, not looking at Jushiro. His hands remained in his pockets.

"I assumed you would want to go back to work. Was I wrong?"

"No. Thank you. I appreciate it," he answered honestly and reached into his uniform to pull out a folded piece of paper. "Aizen told me to give you this. He wants you to enforce the instructions on it using your Claim."

Jushiro reluctantly handed it to Starrk. He had already read it, his despair increasing with each elegantly written line. From a tactical standpoint, the restrictions made sense. Starrk read it and then let it burst into flame in his hand. "I trust you will follow them to the best of your ability," he grunted. "Even if I were to enforce them with the Claim, orders only last so long if they are not refreshed frequently and I am not wasting that much energy on you."

Well, _that_ was useful information. He wondered if Aizen knew there was a cost his minions incurred every time they invoked their Claims.

"I noticed not everyone was there. I could have sworn the Espada with the blue hair had taken Ichigo's sisters and I did not see Inoue Orihime or her human friend."

The tired Espada scratched the back of his neck.

"Grimmjow wouldn't have Claimed them," he replied, sounding almost bored "He would hold them as I hold Nanao. We don't have many taboos, but sex with a cub is one of them. Not even someone as dimwitted as Yammy would stoop so low, or tolerate anyone who broke it. As for the other Espada, those few who had taken Claims amongst the civilians didn't bring them either. The meeting was only for Shinigami."

"What about torture?"

Starrk shrugged.

"No real rule against it. It's not unheard-of to kill cubs, to remove the competition, but it's wasteful. Naturally-born Hollows are very rare, and rumored to be highly fertile. Like Shinigami, we have low birth rates. _Any_ cubs, particularly female cubs, would likely be adopted for future breeding purposes, rather than killed or tortured."

Jushiro made a face and Starrk must have felt his disquiet, because he received a hasty clarification. "Grimmjow isn't into torture, and if he did decide to Claim them when they get older, he would likely court them instead of just taking them, though it would be within his rights. As brash as he can be, the Sexta _does_ possess a sense of honour."

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't realized that Starrk was leading him, not to the Estate, but to the very tree that he and Nanao had been talking about earlier that day. She and Lilinette were already there with what looked like several baskets of prepared food, as well as one full of saké. Shunsui's shrouded body lay atop a rude funeral pyre put together from deadfall tree limbs and dried bark as kindling. Jushiro hadn't thought about what the other three had been doing while he'd been working, but it was clear to him now that they had been preparing for this moment.

The temptation to pull back the shroud, to see his friend's face one more time was overwhelming, but Jushiro kept his hands at his side. Nanao's eyes were shadowed, hidden behind her glasses but even in the dark he could tell she'd been crying again. She and Starrk had likely been the ones to place Shunsui's corpse on the pyre and he did not want to traumatize her further. That brought up a sticky problem for which no one had planned: the time it would take to reduce the body to ash. He had to report to Aizen at sunrise and he did not want to have to leave Nanao to guard the pyre. Allowing Starrk to help things along with a Cero seemed utterly wrong, in many different ways. Thankfully, there was a workaround, and one that he thought his friend would find fitting, even funny. Taking a bottle from the basket, Jushiro startled the others by uncorking it and pouring the liquor over the silk sheet covering the body.

"One for the road, my friend. May it ease you into your next life," he muttered, shaking the last drops over the covered feet. Stepping away and handing the empty container to a wide-eyed Nanao, he picked up Lilinette's lantern, using the flames within to light a dry twig snapped from a nearby shrub. Without preamble, Jushiro touched the burning tip to the alcohol-soaked fabric and then flung an arm up to shield his eyes. The saké-fueled flames roared to life. Within minutes, an inferno engulfed the structure and the body.

Lilinette was oddly subdued throughout the whole affair. The solemnity was unavoidable he supposed, but Jushiro knew Shunsui would have preferred a large party, with plenty of free-flowing booze and raucous laughter. Unfortunately, they were lucky to be able to give him _this_ small send-off. Those Taichou and Fukutaichou lost in the war would accompany the dead they'd commanded during tomorrow's cremations, with no special distinction or mourning period. His lone consolation was that his friend would be reborn somewhere in the Living World, but that did little to mitigate his anguish. Therefore, he put on his bravest face and tried to do his late friend proud. Even Nanao took a drink or three as they toasted the departed and consumed some of his favourite dishes.

Lilinette did not remain long after that, muttering something about guarding the den from snoopers, but Starrk had stayed, even offering up a solemn toast to the man he'd defeated. Eventually, the smoke cleared and the roaring fire slowly dwindled. Jushiro could not distinguish what had been kindling and what had been Shunsui and at that point, he decided that it did not matter. Starrk wordlessly retrieved the shovel from its spot near the tree and began to heap dirt upon the hot, red coals, extinguishing them and completing the burial at the same time. In time, grass would grow over the mound but for now, it would remain a blackened scar on the earth. That too seemed fitting.

It was well past midnight before they left, but not before marking the grave with a stone. Nanao used Kido to carve out Shunsui's name on it.

' _You weren't the sort to want anything fancy, unless you could play it, drink it or flirt with it,'_ Jushiro thought with some fondness. The ache over his friend's loss had not diminished, but seeing the kanji etched into the makeshift memorial granted him a small amount of closure. _'Maybe this is more your style. Strange, I always thought you would be the one to bury me, Shunsui.'_

The walk back to the Ukitake estate was silent, and it remained so as each sought their beds. Without his family or the servants, the quiet became eerie, broken only by the cold wind as it whispered around the eaves and rattled the bare tree branches outside.

Jushiro should have fallen asleep the minute his head hit his pillow, given how emotionally and physically draining the day had been, but slumber proved damnably elusive. Closing his eyes did not help, because the faces of the dead lurked behind his eyelids, their specters waiting for him with accusing stares. Eventually he gave up trying and settled on staring at the timbers in the ceiling. Tomorrow he would have to watch the 13th Division burn. There was no question whether Nanao would be on hand when the 8th Division and its dead went up in flames, but afterwards…

He was worried for her. Aizen had decreed that when it came to the Espada's pets, their Masters would make the decision as to whether they could resume their duties. Coyote Starrk had given him permission to lead again, but Jushiro wasn't sure if he'd grant Nanao the same freedom. Without a Claim on her person, she was vulnerable until word got around that she served the First Espada.

' _If we're lucky, Lilinette will take care to spread that news,'_ he thought. For some reason, an image of the First's younger half came to mind, her hands cupped around her mouth, bellowing to anyone who would listen that Ise Nanao was most definitely off-limits.

It was surprisingly funny, in the way that highly inappropriate things often were.

Shunsui would have been rolling on the floor. Jushiro would bet all he had on that. The man had never met a lurid joke, a sly innuendo or an outright howler that he did not enjoy. However, try as he might, he couldn't find the courage to laugh. Instead, he reached up and ground the heels of both hands into his forehead.

It was far easier to summon gratitude.

Death had spared his friend all sorts of horrors, both large and small. Shunsui would not have to see what had become of the 8th Division after their resounding defeat. He would not have to hear that a black-robed skeleton had exterminated his next of kin. He would not have to endure a smirking Aizen occupying their sensei's seat, making a mockery of everything Yamamoto had tried to build over a thousand years.

Jushiro could not imagine Shunsui submitting to Starrk, or to anyone else, unlike him, to his everlasting shame. In the space of a few days, he had lost everything he'd ever treasured… his family, his freedom, his best friend. The destruction was nearly complete.

What it could not reach were the memories, carefully tucked away in his brain, like the sweets he'd kept secreted in his desk drawer. In a bid for solace, the Taichou sifted through them until he found the one he wanted. Shunsui's languid drawl came back, flavored with just enough irony and good-natured sarcasm.

" _If it's me, it would be a waste not to dance, no matter what."_

It wasn't as if Jushiro had much of a choice right now. Rolling over on his side, he closed his eyes and pondered one of Shunsui's favorite phrases. It was supposedly a family mantra of sorts, a fatalistic ode to hedonism in the face of certain death, but Jushiro found merit in it all the same.

' _I'll look after your 'Nanao-chan,' as best I can,'_ he thought muzzily as sleep finally found him _'and try to keep Sensei's values alive, despite the monster who calls himself the Spirit King. I promise I'll dance in your stead, no matter how long it takes to destroy him… no matter what.'_

* * *

Occupational Hazard: You can certainly send in requests, but I make no guarantees that they will work their way in. So many other projects on the go, including my original piece I am working on. It's a lot more work since I have to build the world, characters, lore, etc. I got some other Bleach idea's in swirling in my brain too that I am contemplating tackling.


	12. Expecting the Unexpected

Expecting the Unexpected

Unohana carefully placed her brush in its proper position, bristle-end up, on its stand and let her eyes close. Her fingers moved out of long-established habit, wriggling from her knuckles as she attempted to loosen her joints and avoid cramping. Next came a few rolls of her wrists, in both directions, to keep the muscles in her forearms from seizing.

' _You have no one to blame but yourself for this,'_ she thought tiredly. When she opened her eyes again, it was to put a few final notes in the file belonging to the young woman who had just left her office. Allowing enough time for the writing to dry, she slid the paper back into its properly labeled folder and placed it on top of the stack of similar files to her left. Before the War, she would have assigned this sort of task to Kotetsu Isane, or more likely, a much lower-ranking Seated officer. These days her subordinates' time was at a premium, and Unohana didn't trust anyone else to handle such a heart-wrenching job.

The sound of knuckles on the wooden door frame caused her to straighten her shoulders, even though she knew who was on the other side by the feel of his reiatsu. A moment later, the door opened. A tall, blonde, bespectacled Shinigami juggling a stack of folders, a steaming pot of fragrant tea on a tray and an apologetic expression entered. Somehow, Iemura Yasochika managed to divest himself of the first two without spilling anything. The third, regrettably, seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face these days.

"I'm terribly sorry, Unohana-Taichou. I saw Omaeda-sama leaving with her… ah… well…" he started and then trailed off, unable or unwilling to use the word that would have described the Numeros that had accompanied Mareyo. To cover, he quickly fetched a ceramic cup from the set of five she kept on one of her bookcase shelves and served his superior some badly-needed fortification. "I thought you could use this."

Unohana took the cup from his hand. Like her paperwork, the job of bringing a Taichou tea could have been handled by others, which meant he had another reason for delivering it, other than thoughtfulness.

"Thank you, Iemura-san. I appreciate it," she murmured, meaning it. Thankfully, he got right to the point, after a quick adjustment of his glasses.

"I saw Ogidō-san in the lobby in passing this morning, while conducting rounds. If I might ask, how is he?"

She inhaled slowly through her nose, detecting jasmine in the steam emanating from the pot. Iemura would not have asked this under typical circumstances; the co-leaders of the Frist Relief Team rarely got along outside of their official duties. However, these weren't normal times and the handsome Ogidō had been a highly-regarded officer, as well as Iemura's rival in the Division. Whatever jealousy her former 3rd Seat might have had for his subordinate had been replaced with worry. Unohana thumbed through the stacks of files until she found the one she wanted. Flipping it open to the first page, she read the thankfully-short report to Iemura.

"Minor reiatsu depletion, bruising on the hips and buttocks, as well as the pectorals, three shallow bite marks on the left inner thigh, though it doesn't look as if she broke the skin…"

That recitation, though short, resulted in Iemura's face flushing a brilliant pink. He quickly put up both hands and waved them, which she took to mean she should stop.

"Ah… a-ahem... that's… what I mean to ask is this – will he be able to resume his duties? Did that… woman… hurt him too much?"

Unohana closed the file and returned it to the correct stack, then sighed. He had valid, work-related reasons for asking, though there was limit to what she could, and would divulge, thanks to patient confidentiality.

"Physically, he's better than most, though I'm not entirely sure about his mental state. He appeared tired when I questioned him. The Arrancar female who Claimed him did so via…ambush. He reported that she has reinitiated this process every few days, for the last month. I've made a note of that in his file – it might be very important in understanding the nature of the forced reiatsu bond."

She decided it was better to leave out the details of the attack, or the fact that the Arrancar, a woman whose mask and slender build reminded Unohana of a wasp, had injected a tranquilizer while in a state Ogidō referred to as a 'Resurrección'. Evidently, strength wasn't the only weapon the Hollows employed when it came to overpowering the Shinigami they wanted to Claim.

"I've yet to see Sugimoto Kaori," she added, bringing up her other purloined officer and Iemura's shoulders tensed further, "but she's not slated for an appointment until tomorrow. I'll do what I can for them."

He nodded, understanding what wasn't said, the 'if I'm allowed to do so' that ought to have accompanied the last. Neither of them was used to feeling helpless, though Iemura had a harder time hiding it. In Sugimoto's case, the Arrancar had Claimed her in the field, after she'd made the error of taking off her green sash to use as a makeshift sling. Aizen would likely call that a case of mistaken identity and let it slide. Ogidō Harunobu had been taken by surprise, sedated and Claimed, as he'd shamefacedly revealed, in less than five minutes, barely able to draw his Zanpakuto before his assailant crammed her tongue down his throat. The relief team leader remembered little after the completion of the Claim, save that he'd awakened in an unfamiliar house in the 2nd District, devoid of clothing and with an equally naked, masked woman straddling him. Unohana doubted that he'd be back to work any time soon, from the way the Arrancar who had Claimed him had glared and bared her teeth at the healer. That she had lost two of her best officers to Claims, despite Aizen's promise, angered her. It would almost be worth it to bring the subject up, if only to hear his justification for allowing her people to remain enslaved.

"Have you eaten, Taichou?"

She felt like lying to her Fukutaichou, but couldn't bring herself to do it. His concern was genuine, and that required an equally considerate and honest response.

"Not since breakfast. These interviews are taking longer than expected."

His mouth opened, probably to offer to bring her something from the cafeteria and she held up her hand to stop him. "I'm truly not hungry, but if I become so later, I promise that I will make time for a meal."

Isane would have immediately demurred and assumed that she knew what she was doing. Her new Fukutaichou, on the other hand, was made of sterner stuff. Unohana didn't know if that was a side-effect of his shrewd management of the Division's resources, including its personnel, but she could see the debate raging in his eyes. The 'taskmaster' portion of his personality was straining at its collar, wanting to lecture her about caring for her health like he would any other member of the 4th Division, while his strict adherence to procedure struggled to keep it chained. A full minute passed before the mental wrestling match ended and he bowed.

"As you wish, Unohana Taichou. I shall hold you to that. Please notify me if you need anything."

She inclined her head as he backed out of the room and closed the door. Once he was gone, she let her gaze wander around the perimeter of what was rapidly becoming the only place that felt remotely 'grounded'. The sofa, the bookshelves and their contents, the tasteful calligraphy samplers exhorting snippets of Confucian wisdom... nothing had changed since the Winter War, or indeed, long before that.

' _How long has it been since I redecorated,'_ she wondered. _'Eight years? Eighty years, or was it like this on the day Yamamoto-Soutaichou promoted me? Sometimes it seems as if it's always been like this, ready to be a sanctuary for the next officer in line for the job.'_

Of course, there was something she'd personally added to the place, but it wasn't wise to think too long about it, no matter how tempting it was to tear up the floorboards and retrieve it.

' _I swore I would never open it again. He hasn't found it yet. Maybe he doesn't know I kept them. I_ could _always pull the box out and take up its contents. No one would blame me… not if they knew what I put up with every night.'_

She wrapped both hands around the teacup before her brain could finish that sentence. The heat from the ceramic surface sank into her digits, finishing the job the stretches started. It soothed her hands and helped her reject the urge to start chipping away at the wood beneath her feet.

Nothing good would come of indulging in what would ultimately prove to be a hopeless fight. Aizen would likely see what she was doing long before she engaged him in battle. Even Minazuki knew a losing proposition when it presented itself and her Zanpakuto, like its owner, was no fool.

Taking a tentative sip of tea, Unohana rolled the faintly bitter liquid around on her tongue and tried to dispel, once again, the desire to rip Aizen apart with her fingernails until there was nothing left of the villain but a lump of wet, red meat. There was too much at stake to pretend he hadn't neatly boxed her into a corner.

' _At least he had the sense to rein in his minions before he destroyed the only means we have to balance the Realms.'_

The orders he'd given to his Espada at that initial meeting in the First Division's courtyard set the new standard for treatment of the vanquished. It had also put an end to the bloodletting, though she suspected that he would have allowed it to continue if he perceived any advantage in doing so.

In a way, his subsequent actions showed Aizen wasn't completely oblivious or indifferent to the consequences of his betrayal. After imposing his restrictions, he'd consolidated the surviving Shinigami not already affiliated with the 4th or the 12th Divisions into three more Divisions. None of them requested a transfer to Szayel Apporo Grantz's commandeered labs and none of her healers chose to leave the 4th Division, despite what appeared to be legitimate opportunities to advance to the rank of Seated officers. If nothing else, the display of loyalty eased some of the heartsickness inside her.

In addition, Aizen allowed the worst of the wounded and mentally traumatized to retire without incident. That particular decision surprised Unohana. She had been certain that the new dictator would have executed anyone unfit to serve, though she also conceded that none of those leaving stood any chance of leading a rebellion. It was the equivalent of brushing dead leaves from one's sleeve and moving forward, motivated more out of disdain and dismissal than out of any sense of charity.

' _Perhaps, he is a sicker creature than anyone could imagine,'_ she lamented and brought the teacup to her forehead. The heat against her brow helped ease the ache there. ' _Death would have been a welcomed release for most of them. Living every day with their memories would be torment enough,_ if _they choose to go on living, that is. I'm also certain he did that to spread stories to potential rebels of the Arrancar's viciousness and his own overwhelming power.'_

While forbidden from slaying the remaining Shinigami, the Arrancar _hadn't_ curbed their appetite for sex. They had continued to force themselves on those they could overpower, extending their predations to the civilians living in the Inner Districts. It wasn't until the fourth day after Aizen's proclamations that they ceased the assaults, and then only grudgingly, thanks to a few very bloody and very public reprimands for those who ignored his orders. Unohana knew Aizen hadn't issued those bans out of the goodness of his heart. Instead, it was more likely done out of pragmatism.

In the end, what truly mattered was that it stopped. Unohana had been trying to figure out how to make that happen, without setting Aizen off or making a terrible situation any worse than it already was. She didn't fear for herself; Aizen needed her healthy and functioning, and any battle between them would be both long and overly destructive. Her concern was for whomever Aizen chose to take her punishment for her. She might be his wife and brood mare, but that wouldn't stop him from hurting another in her stead.

That fear turned out to be prophetic. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised that Ukitake Jushiro had taken it upon himself to address the problem that the Arrancar's behaviour towards the Shinigami presented. After listening to his former colleague beg for the assaults to end, Aizen informed the Arrancar that the only people they could have sex with were those they had Claimed, those they were in the process of Claiming, their fraccion (if they had any), or those who willingly consented.

' _At least Jushiro was smart enough not to base his argument on morality and stick to practical considerations.'_ she thought this, Aizen had wasted no time making an example of him. He'd forced the Taichou to strip at the meeting's end and had personally carried out a brutal flogging with a whip made of _kido_. By the end of it, crimson rivulets had snaked their way down Jushiro's back and legs, staining the wooden floor. Aizen had not allowed her to heal his wounds, though he had granted her permission to apply first aid, mostly bandages and a few stitches.

Starrk hadn't stirred in his pet's defence. At first the Primera's disregard for what had happened to Jushiro enraged her, but after she'd had a chance to calm down, Unohana had realized Starrk could have done little to help him. She had learned how her husband's sadistic mind worked during time she'd been forced to spend with him over the last month. Had he uttered any objections, the Primera would have shared his pet's beating. Thankfully, Jushiro's wounds were merely painful, not life threatening, though it hurt her to see him forced to perform his duties under such duress. It had taken two full weeks for the lashes on his back to heal, leaving ugly red scars across her friend's back. The message could not have been clearer: speak up at your peril.

' _I've been at this all day,'_ she realized and rubbed her eyes. The muscles in her lower back promptly spasmed and Unohana winced. She was glad that no one could see her face and her loss of composure, however brief. _'Maybe I need to get up and move before all feeling in my legs vanishes.'_

Once on her feet, she stretched for several minutes, until the vertebrae in her spine slowly popped back into place. The window beckoned and Unohana decided to treat herself to some much-needed sunshine. It was a simple thing to open it and take fresh air into her lungs. While the late winter light held little warmth, it was still a small pleasure, one she could not take for granted. There were so few of them these days, despite her elevated status as 'Kami's wife'.

She had never really considered marriage, either as a concept or as an emotional bond between two people, something for which she was destined. Unohana had spent more than a thousand years in service to what would become the Gotei 13. She was wedded to her duties, had been so since she'd cast off a title and a name that no longer suited her. Before that, she had been deeply enamored of the fine art of bloodshed via swordsmanship. Her bond with Minazuki notwithstanding, deep emotional attachments to others, of a personal or a romantic kind, were not her cup of tea.

Perhaps, she considered, that was a good thing, as her 'marriage' to Aizen Sousuke was anything but happy. He made it very clear that he did not find her attractive, that her figure was far too feminine, her breasts and hips too rounded, and that she was much too short to interest him. He cared only about her reproductive capabilities. A reluctant and recently-healed Jushiro conducted their nuptials before an assembly that included all five Divisions and the majority of the Arrancar. The stricken-faced former could not object and the latter, including the Espada, had grown bored in a matter of minutes. She later came to understand that such savage creatures had little use for promises of fidelity.

Still, her new 'rank', such as it was, had the thinnest of silver linings. Just as the office of Taichou gave her a certain amount of power over her Division members, her role as Aizen's wife gave her word some weight with the Arrancar. Evidently, the leader's 'mate' commanded a certain level of respect among Hollows. She knew they would never obey a request from her if it contradicted one of her husband's commands. However, the lines with regard to all things health-related were blurrier and Unohana had decided to test those boundaries.

The first real order she'd issued involved medical evaluations for those the invaders had Claimed. A crisply-worded document, sent to the First Division, instructed the Arrancar to bring those they had taken as 'pets' (a term she hated the moment she'd written it down) to the 4th Division for a range of tests, as well as treatment if necessary. Aizen hadn't issued a countermand, and the majority of the Arrancar obeyed without question. The handful that groused numbered among the Espada and even they did not complain too loudly.

Conducting the examinations and personally speaking with the Claimed yielded two things. First, she gained valuable knowledge about the reiatsu-based form of enslavement, with the faint hope that maybe her Division could find a way to weaken the link. Second, she could assess the mental and physical damage caused by the casting of those bonds, as well as the wellbeing of those victimized by them. There were approximately one hundred Arrancar now residing in Soul Society, which had resulted in the Claiming of eighty 'pets' and she summoned those she deemed the 'worst' cases first.

Byakuya had been in terrible shape, but the proud noble would never admit to it and had stoically gone through his evaluation while Yammy grunted and moaned on the sofa like a bull denied a cow in heat. She was very worried about that situation, but her hands were tied. She wasn't willing to risk interfering directly in Claims with Aizen just yet, since he'd made it quite clear an Arrancar could do whatever he or she wished with their pets short of killing them. The few Numeros that had fought over Claiming rights to a Shinigami, despite Kami's direct orders, had been publicly flayed and left to die, locked in small cages that did not allow the condemned to sit. Meanwhile, insects and birds pecked at their flesh. Their inevitable deaths had been a mercy. Considering the durability of Hollows, it had taken a long time for some of them to die.

While it was depressing to see her fellow Shinigami rendered powerless, some of the saddest cases involved the few civilians, for they lacked the reiatsu and military training to fight their Arrancar attackers. They had been completely blindsided by Aizen's invasion. Few in the Rukongai had known about the war. In fact, after putting out the fires, most of the residents had returned to their normal lives, though they remained fearful of the Hollows suddenly living next to them. The healer had not personally known the majority of the Plusses brought to her, but could guess, from their shell-shocked expressions, that their experiences had been similarly brutal.

The lone exception to this, ironically, was the one that felt like a kick to the gut. Not even the losses of Kotetsu Isane and Yamada Hanataro had hit her this hard.

Omaeda Mareyo had arrived with a collection of bruises, old and new, on her hips and breasts, as well as recent bite marks on her neck and shoulders. The teenager wasn't hurt as badly as some of the other Claimed Shinigami and Plusses, but as Unohana had been a friend of the Omaeda family for centuries, each mark on the girl felt like some deep personal failing. That Mareyo was the only surviving member of her family, to the best of anyone's knowledge, made it that much worse. The majority of bruises turned out to be the result of her new 'master's' forgetfulness when it came to the young woman's much weaker reiatsu, rather than viciousness.

 _At least she was able to assure me that Sementall backs off when she protested that he was hurting her and didn't punish her for daring to say something. The fact he let her continue to run the family business and left the servants alone is also a good sign._

As much as she wanted to flay all of the Arrancar, Unohana understood the problems inherent in controlling in one's energy. Injuries frequently occurred when a stronger warrior failed to mind their strength during training, or forgot themselves during a tryst. That held true for all Shinigami with high levels of reiatsu, not just the 11th Division brutes. It was nothing short of a miracle that Mareyo's captor hadn't killed her when he'd infused her with his reiatsu.

Sudden weariness gripped her, despite the tea she'd had to drink and she reached for the pot to top off her cup. There was so much that she didn't know about this Claiming business and she needed answers. For instance, why did those Claimed by female Arrancar, from Hitsugaya-Taichou down to her own 8th Seat, lack the deep, scarring bites made by the males? Did the females go about things differently, and if so, how? Were those Claims different in and of themselves? What kind of force would it take to break a Claim, if possible and why were those imposed by males done while taking the victim from behind? The reports on her desk described the method of Claim casting, in graphic detail, and Unohana was certain that scattered among the reports were the precious clues she needed to help free the trapped… provided she got the chance.

Another knock on the door frame told her that Iemura was back, only this time he did not wait to stick his head into her office to interrupt her melancholy thoughts.

"Taichou, your next two appointments are here," he said and seemed pleased to see she'd partly finished her tea. Unohana closed Mareyo's file with another frustrated sigh and set that atop the latest stack for filing once her shift was over.

"Thank you, Iemura-san. Go ahead and send them in."

Minutes later, Jushiro and Nanao entered her office. Starrk followed on their heels, his expression that of a man trying desperately to keep from walking headfirst into a wall. While her patients took a seat across from her, the droopy-eyed Espada appropriated the couch and stretched his lanky form from one armrest to the other.

"Wake me up when you're done," he mumbled sleepily and then promptly passed out.

While she would have preferred to see each case one-on-one, several of the Espada had two pets and only wanted to make one trip to the 4th Division. In Barragan's case, he had sent his fraccion. Starrk was evidently the sort that preferred to handle things himself.

"Jushiro-san, Nanao-san, it's good to see you."

She said this with a smile, because it was true – it was good to see the two of them. Jushiro wore his uniform, while Nanao wore Shunsui's old kimono over a plain, white yukata. She could tell someone had washed it, as the bloodstains had faded to slightly darker spots, but Unohana doubted they could ever be fully removed. At first glance, she was relieved to see that both appeared in good health, but looks could be deceiving and Jushiro was due for a check-up. Her colleague sheepishly scratched the back of his neck before addressing her.

"I am sorry we're late. I had some last minute paperwork to complete before I could leave."

"That is fine. I've been running behind today too."

"I never really noticed. You usually see me as soon as I arrive."

"Only because you have the regrettable habit of bleeding heavily when you visit, rather than keeping the stuff in your arteries where it belongs," she countered. He laughed quietly, conceding defeat, while Nanao's cheeks pinked at their easy banter about his illness. Humor made coping with the effects of his tuberculosis easier for both of them.

"As you were already made aware, I'm updating the files of those with Claims, to reflect their current state of health. I would like to start with you, Jushiro, if you don't mind? It's been some time and I know you need to return to the office as soon as possible. I worry that the stress has aggravated your condition and want to check your back."

"Of course."

Unohana stood and beckoned for the Taichou to follow her into the adjoining examination room. Starrk didn't stir and Nanao put her hands in her lap, giving no indication she wanted to follow. Closing the door, she turning to the sink and motioned towards the table in the middle of the room.

"Please strip to your _fundoshi_ and take a seat there."

"I'm familiar with the procedure. Some days I wonder if you schedule so many of these appointments just to get my clothes off," he teased, yet did as he was told. Unohana knew an attempt to lighten the mood when she heard it and after some of the Claimed Shinigami she'd seen that morning, it was a welcome change. The joke also told her that he was holding up mentally, though to what extent she wouldn't know until she finished.

"As charming as you are, I can think of a dozen men whom I would rather see naked."

He winced in mock pain as he finished disrobing and eased his backside onto the paper-covered metal table.

"Ouch. I do believe that was a direct blow to my self-esteem."

"A the self-esteem of man of your age shouldn't need pampering," she admonished as she moved to stand before him. The first thing she checked were the older wounds he'd incurred during the battle in Karakura Town. Those, as she expected, had healed, as had the bite to his neck. He flinched a little when her finger brushed over the scar tissue, but she doubted it was out of any form of physical pain. There was no sign of infection. Better yet, the stripes Aizen had inflicted on him showed no inflammation.

"How often?" she asked and she saw his spine straighten. There was no need to elaborate further – he knew what she wanted to know. He did, however, reach up to touch the mark.

"Once, thus far. He doesn't seem interested in more. In fact, he didn't seem interested in the first place. When he asked if I wanted to submit to a Claim, he actually seemed very unhappy that he had to do it at all."

That surprised her. Out of all of the other Claimed Shinigami she'd spoken to, only Toshiro had mentioned being allowed to choose his fate. She found the two Espada's aversion to the act without asking for the consent strange.

 _Of course, given Aizen's decree of being Claimed or death, I suppose it wasn't much of a choice for either of them. Jushiro would never abandon his Division or his family… not if he could keep either group from further suffering._

Her eyes drifted once more to the lash marks on his back and she felt a certain amount of dread, as well as resignation. Jushiro wasn't the sort of man to stay silent in the face of injustice. This would likely not be the last time Aizen punished him for protesting. Unohana could only hope that a whipping would be all he received the next time he questioned Aizen's authority or methods.

The rest of Jushiro's appointment went well. Other than what she'd already noted, he was healthy, and she did not count the papercut on his index finger. He blushed when she asked him to remove his _fundoshi_ , kept quiet when she donned a pair of latex gloves. Unohana was relieved to find no anal tearing, nor any sign of damage to his rectum. The same could _not_ be said for the majority of the other men Claimed by male Arrancar. Abarai Renji and Ayasegawa Yumichika were the exceptions to that observation, though the reasons differed. Like Jushiro, Abarai had only been Claimed once and from Szayel's unwillingness to get too close to his 'pet' when he'd dragged the redhead to her office, he'd been given more than enough time and space to recover. The hatred and disdain emanating from both parties made her question whether a second Claiming would occur. As for Yumichika, he'd suffered from inflammation and friction burns, testaments to Barragan's excessive use of his slave. She'd given him a small container of healing ointment, but when she'd pressed a container of lube into his hand, he refused it with sad eyes, muttering that 'His Majesty uses something else for this purpose.' He hadn't elaborated, but Unohana hadn't missed the way he'd shot a side-glance at Soi Fon, who seethed silently next to Barragan's fang-masked fraccion, her arm in a sling and murder in her eyes.

No, Jushiro was, despite his other ailments, doing much better than the rest. A quick examination of her fellow Taichou's lungs with a stethoscope rounded out the exam, which she ended with as serene a smile as she could muster.

"Well, you are as healthy as can be, all things considered," she pronounced. "I _will_ run the usual blood and urine tests and let you know the results soon."

"Are you going to want me to come in, or will you send them to the 5th Division?" he asked as he redressed. Unohana finished writing in his file and shook her head.

"Neither. If you don't hear from me in two weeks, it means we found nothing amiss. Otherwise, I will notify you personally. It would give me an excuse to take a walk."

"How bad has it been?" he asked softly. She let out a long breath and clasped her hands in front of her. After days of speaking with those the Arrancar held in bondage, keeping them from automatically forming fists had grown difficult.

"Physician-patient confidentiality prevents me from disclosing the specifics to you, unless it involves someone directly under your command. However, I will make sure you get those reports in a timely manner, once I've concluded the examinations."

Like her promise to Iemura, it was all she could give him. His faint smile told her that he understood, as did his softly-spoken 'thank you' as he re-tied his obi. With Jushiro done, she cleared him to return to work and prepped the examination room for Nanao. Then she called for one of her staff members and sent the samples she'd taken from Jushiro to one of the laboratories for processing. Starrk slept through all of this and remained sprawled where he was when Jushiro left though he cracked one eye open when Unohana motioned for Nanao. Like Jushiro, she stripped to her underthings and took a seat on the table.

Nanao's examination was also a welcome change. The former Fukutaichou hadn't participated in the battle and showed no signs of being Claimed – no scars, no bruises and no injuries of any kind. Physically, she was perfectly healthy. Mentally… Unohana couldn't really put a finger on it, but having spent plenty of time in the presence of the President of the Shinigami Women's Society, she could tell something was bothering the young woman. Nor did she think it was purely due to the collective miasma that had descended on the Seireitei with the loss of the War. If she was to put a label on it, she would have described it as a handful of misery combined with a great deal of nervousness. The Ise Nanao that Unohana knew was not this jumpy… not without good reason and a physical examination didn't warrant such fear.

"You appear fine," Unohana said as she dropped Nanao's wrist. Picking up her clipboard, she wrote down the woman's pulse and regarded her patient patiently.

"So far," Nanao agreed, and fidgeted while looking away. That settled it. Ise Nanao, the most organized woman Unohana had ever met, _never_ fidgeted. Nor did she dissemble, or mumble or act as if she were guilty of some as-yet-undisclosed crime.

Something was definitely up.

"Nanao-san, you know you can tell me anything," Unohana stated, keeping her tone as gentle as possible. "Whatever it is _will_ remain confidential."

The other's shoulders hunched and her expression shifted from anxious to fearful. What she confessed next took Unohana by surprise.

"I… I am two weeks late."

The healer blinked and her brow furrowed.

"Beg pardon?"

Nanao wrapped her arms around her torso, as if she were cold and hung her head.

"I'm late. I'm never late. I think… I think I might be pregnant."

Silence descended on the two women for a few seconds. Then Unohana walked to the counter where the capped cup of Nanao's urine, collected at the beginning of the exam, sat with the standard three tubes of blood. Opening a cupboard, the dark-haired woman stood on tip-toe to reach a box on one of the middle shelves and a beaker that her staff had thankfully left in a more accessible spot. The kit she needed wasn't one she used often. In fact, it had been years, maybe decades since she'd conducted this sort of test on a patient. It was the middle of the afternoon and this would have been better done first thing in the morning, but she didn't want to cause Nanao any more distress. Pouring the necessary amount of urine into the clean beaker, she opened the kit and set about mixing the correct ratio of chemicals. Adding them to the beaker, Unohana swirled them around to mix them and then put the thing down. After that it was just a matter of waiting. Nanao watched the process with fear-filled eyes.

Slowly, the contents of the beaker turned a lovely shade of magenta and it was Unohana's turn to bite her lip.

Nanao was indeed pregnant. She quickly picked up one of the vials of blood she'd drawn and wrote a code on the label. That one would be tested, to provide secondary confirmation of the pregnancy and to determine just how far along she was. The other vials would undergo the same tests she'd ordered for each of the Claim victims, to see if they'd picked up any diseases from the Arrancar who had ravaged them, or for anything else that could affect the depleted Shinigami ranks. The last thing they needed was a pandemic caused by a virus or by bacteria the Arrancar dragged with them from Hueco Mundo.

"Starrk…" she started to say, only to see Nanao vigorously shake her head. Her halting reply was almost painful to hear.

"No, we haven't… shared a bed. Starrk told me he wouldn't unless Aizen-kami specifically orders him to sleep with me. It was… someone else."

"Was this encounter consensual?"

Nanao's hesitancy immediately evaporated and her quick answer was absolute.

"Yes!"

That, Unohana thought, was a relief and a first as far as her recent interviews had gone.

"The father?"

The name Nanao whispered sounded suspiciously familiar, but Unohana had to know for certain. She pressed again, resting a comforting hand on the other's shoulder.

"Ise-san, I _need_ the name of the father. There could be complications or genetic disorders that run along the child's paternal line. If possible, we should find out if those will be a factor in your pregnancy."

"It was Shunsui," she said, loud enough for Unohana to hear her clearly. "It happened before the battle. He's been the only one, the one time. It was one night. There was so much pressure and we'd both had too much to drink…"

Nanao uttered the last through clenched teeth, clearly lost in the memory while she twisted her fingers together in her lap. In response, Unohana closed her eyes and wished she had the late Taichou of the 8th Division within arm's reach, to smack him around the room for an hour or so with Minazuki. It was against the rules for a Taichou to fraternize with a subordinate and Nanao was usually such a stickler for following those rules to the letter. Admitting to such a flagrant breach of official protocol must have been hard on her. More importantly, Kyoraku Shunsui, that scoundrel, should have known better.

' _There must have been a lot of saké involved for her to have dropped her guard enough for Shunsui to seduce her. If we had won and this got out, she would likely be stripped of her rank and tossed into the Maggot's Nest. That jackass! How could he have put her in this position?'_

Of course, the old system was no longer in place and she doubted Aizen would care about Nanao's sexual encounters prior to his accursed Victory. If anything, he might find the unfortunate situation amusing. As a Fukutaichou, the old powers that be might have punished her and maybe Shunsui too, for their indiscretion. However, as the 'pet' of an Espada, with no official power or place as a Shinigami…

"I see," Unohana said quietly, keeping any trace of censure out of her voice. "I don't think you need to worry about what anyone will think, after all of this. As far as I am concerned, your health and the health of your baby are what truly matter now."

Nanao's shoulders heaved a few times and she made a choking sound in her throat that Unohana knew as a prelude to tears of relief. Had she expected Unohana to shame her for this, or report her indiscretion to her husband? The healer would have sooner cut off her own hand than give Aizen an excuse to hurt the woman. Fortunately, Nanao was also adept at keeping her emotion in check and sat up, not allowing herself to cry.

"Have you been taking vitamins?" Unohana asked, pretending as if she hadn't noticed anything wrong. Nanao sniffed and tucked a strand of brown hair that had escaped its clip behind her ear.

"No, there are none at the Ukitake Estate, and I didn't feel comfortable asking Ukitake-taichou, let alone Starrk-sama, to bring any home with them. Ukitake-taichou would have asked me why I wanted them, and Starrk-sama probably has no idea what vitamins are. I've tried to eat a balanced diet… lots of fish and vegetables, no alcohol. There won't be fruit until early summer, unfortunately."

"Then I will make sure you get a bottle before you leave. We will have to schedule more appointments so I can continue to monitor you. I want to see you in two weeks to conduct a full prenatal exam, which will take about an hour. I also have some pamphlets that will explain what you can expect, month by month. I think they'll help."

"Thank you. Do you… well, should I tell Ukitake-taichou? He and Shunsui were such good friends."

' _Finally,'_ Unohana thought, _'a question I can easily answer.'_

"I think he would be more than pleased, and you won't be able to hide it forever. Ukitake-taichou is no stranger to pregnancy – he certainly has enough siblings to recognize an expectant mother when he sees one. He might even guess before you begin to show. On the positive side, wouldn't it be better to share a home with someone already familiar with the care and feeding of a future mother?" She pointed the last out with as much encouragement as she could.

"I hope you're right." Nanao looked down at her still-flat stomach and placed one of her hands just above her navel. "He does have a lot of sisters. At least someone will know how to change a diaper. Lilinette would be all thumbs…"

Unohana couldn't hold back the smile that spread across her face at the last. Seeing it, some of the tension in Nanao's posture eased too. When Unohana felt she had enough data, she told her patient that she could redress and take a chair in the main room while she dealt with the samples. When she joined Nanao, they found Starrk still dozing contently. He reminded Unohana of a spent hound that had found a warm spot in the sun to sleep. She half-expected one of his legs to start moving on its own while he dreamed of chasing rabbits.

"Starrk-san, are you awake?" the Taichou asked as she added Jushiro and Nanao's files to the smallest stack on her desk. A lazy rumble emanated from the vicinity of the couch while she sorted the pamphlets she'd brought from the examination room.

"Hmm…"

"I need to see Ise-san again in two weeks. Will that be acceptable?"

She hated having to ask permission but Starrk had made it clear that he'd taken Nanao under his wing, even if he hadn't Claimed her. He now owned her and whether she received further care was up to him.

"I guess. Is something wrong?"

All signs of slumber vanished as he rose to his feet and sauntered over to the desk, a serious look in his eyes. She immediately wiped the whole 'tired dog' image from her brain. He was entirely focused on her and Unohana straightened to her full height. No wonder Shunsui had a tough time with this one. Starrk's height and strength matched that of her late friend, with the added trouble of a deceptively sharp mind.

Something occurred to her before she answered his question and she suddenly wondered if it would be wise to inform Starrk about Nanao's condition. Hollows were predators and predators did not often take kindly to offspring not their own. There was a chance he might try to kill the child after it was born, or even force an abortion. If there was going to be a problem, Unohana would sooner deal with it now, rather than down the road. If an abortion did end up in the books, it was better to do it before the fetus developed too far and made it a messy task. For all of Nanao's distress about the pregnancy, once Unohana had confirmed that she would bear Kyoraku Shunsui's child, she had not requested a termination. Would the mother's wishes count for anything in this mess?

They would, if Unohana had anything to say about it.

"I am pregnant," Nanao answered the question before she could. Starrk's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Instead, he turned to look down at the top of Nanao's head. Unohana held her breath while the information sank in. Mercifully, he did not appear upset at the news. The worst-case scenario the healer feared failed to materialize. Instead, the Primera seemed not just surprised about the results of the exam, but curious as well.

"I will need to see her again for another checkup, and many more times afterwards as I monitor her pregnancy," Unohana explained. As she said this, she carefully watched the Espada, to see what his reaction would be to the news and her requests.

"It shouldn't be a problem. How long will it be before the cub is born?" he asked, now entirely intrigued.

"About eight more months, give or take a week. Babies come in their own good time."

"Will she require any special care?"

"I'm still in the room," Nanao grumbled, disliking that she'd been both the subject of and excluded from the conversation. To make up for the slight, Unohana handed the booklet and pamphlet filled folder, not to Starrk, but to the younger woman, who clasped it to her chest as if it were made of rubies.

"She's to take vitamin pills twice a day, and eat good food – lean meats, fish, plenty of fresh vegetables and fish, though I would stay away from shellfish for now. I would ask that you allow her to exercise too, though nothing too strenuous. Most of the necessary 'to do's' are listed," Unohana said and gestured towards the folder. "Feel free to read through it and familiarize yourself with the material. I am sure Jushiro-san can fill in any blanks and answer any questions from a real life perspective."

Any fears she had about Nanao's safety, or that of the child, flew out the proverbial window without waving goodbye when Starrk resolutely nodded. She also wondered if Starrk would grill Jushiro about Shinigami pregnancies, births and babies as soon as the poor man got home from work. She scheduled Nanao's next appointment for a date two weeks away, along with a reminder about its expected duration. Unohana watched the two leave, noticing that Starrk hovered uncertainly over his charge, as if he wanted take a more protective position but was uncertain how to go about it. Nanao appeared oblivious to the Espada's dilemma, clutching that evening's required reading tightly.

It was an unexpectedly pleasant ending to what turned out to be a draining day. After a month of little but bad news, finding out that Starrk hadn't abused Jushiro and Nanao took some of the weight from her shoulders. Maybe Nanao's pregnancy hadn't occurred under the most ideal set of circumstances, but she looked much better and under less pressure than when she'd arrived.

' _I'd still flay you and use your hide to recover my sofa, were you still alive, you sake-sodden fool,'_ she told the grinning image of Shunsui that skated across her mind's eye. He raised a cup of saké to her before he disappeared, rubbing it in. _'You were a rogue to the last, weren't you?'_

Maybe it was for the best he was off to his next lifetime. It would serve him right if he were reborn to a family of teetotalers. Unohana snorted at the idea as she called for someone to take the folders on her desk to be filed in the records department. Not even death could keep Shunsui, that reprobate, from taking one last parting shot at propriety.

Her improved mood lasted until the end of the day, when she forced herself to leave the Division. It continued to plummet as she approached the palace Aizen had started to construct, in what had once been the center of the Seireitei. The structure was going up quickly, as hundreds of people, hired from throughout the Rukongai, worked at a breakneck pace. The surrounding walls were only half completed, and the construction din hurt her ears. Walking through the front 'door', which was still just an opening in the wall of the main building, Unohana made her way down a long corridor, trying to remember where she needed to turn to reach her temporary room. Once she found it, she had to dodge two woodworkers leaving for the evening. They passed her, pausing only long enough to bow to her and then left her alone in the middle of what would one day be a magnificent reception hall. If she scuffed her sandal-clad foot on the cloth-covered wooden floor, she could hear the sound echo off of the opposite wall.

It wasn't the only thing that reached her ears. Straining her ears, Unohana thought she heard faint, pathetic whimpers coming from the bottom of a nearby stairwell… one that she would have sworn wasn't there a few days ago. Expecting to find an injured carpenter or stonemason at the bottom, she started down the long, twisting set of steps, to a heavy door. It was unlocked and when she pushed it open, she discovered a scene more horrific than anything she'd witnessed in the War's aftermath. Words temporarily failed her.

Aizen looked up the moment she entered, but did nothing more than smile at her and then went back to what he was doing. As for the man strapped to the wicked iron contraption before him, he was too busy moaning in agony. The metal was stained, not just with fresh red blood, but also with old blood gone brown. The serrated teeth on the iron bands digging into its occupant's pale flesh added more by the minute.

She had finally discovered where her husband had decided to stow Gin after that first fateful night. It would seem Aizen had included a torture chamber in his architectural plans.

Gin's whimpering escalated to screams with another round of strikes, which sent his body writhing, which in turn made the bands constrict and led to more bleeding. Unohana finally remembered to breathe, and shot Aizen a disapproving look that bordered dangerously on outrage. However, she couldn't stop what was going on, no matter how much she wanted to do so.

"I wasn't expecting you home so early, my dear!" Aizen raised his voice just enough to be heard over his victim's pain-filled cries. "How was your day?"

"It almost ended on a good note for once," she replied, walking quickly to the… device that held Gin captive. Unohana had never seen anything so diabolical in her life and it took her a moment to realize just how the thing worked. Once she figured it out, she had to use her willpower to block the nausea that washed over her. Aizen shifted in his chair, to rest his chin on a fist. Putting the controller he held on the table next to him, he gave a fine imitation of an attentive husband, interested in his wife's busy job.

She found it sickening.

"Oh?"

"Ukitake-taichou and Ise-san are both in good health," she said, and reached out to push the lever that controlled the metal bands' constriction. Once Unohana had turned the machine off, Gin went silent and slumped in the thing, as if dead. "Ise-san is expecting a child."

"With Starrk?" Aizen asked, leaning forward and looking at her intently. Unohana did not like the gleam in his eyes and decided that a lie of omission was the best approach.

"No. He has not had sexual relations with her. I believe he thinks she will not survive the experience. The child's father is… was, I should say, a Shinigami."

Aizen's low chuckle morphed into a full-fledged laugh, until he raised one hand and wiped the corner of his eyes with a finger. Unohana ground her teeth together and did her best to present as neutral an expression as possible.

"As disappointing as it is to discover it's not a hybrid pregnancy, as such would be a truly marvelous development, I have to admit that I never pictured Ise Nanao letting anyone into her _hakama_ , let alone engage in carnal relations. She was always such an uptight, prissy little thing. Who knew she had a lover? I'm somewhat disappointed that I didn't know about this sooner."

He hadn't told her to step away, so Unohana began to undo the straps holding Gin down. She frowned as she saw the puncture wounds and cuts from bands, as well as heavy abrasions where his skin had suffered for his struggles.

"She said it was a one-time thing and her condition only came to light today. The father died during the invasion. Starrk has not let her return to her duties, so she is technically no longer a Shinigami. Punishment would be meaningless and somewhat redundant."

Aizen appeared to mull this over and then tilted his head to the side as Unohana freed one of Gin's arms.

"True enough. I suppose there would be little point in a court martial now. Children are rare enough as it is. I think I'll let Starrk and Lilinette handle this. Out of curiosity, how did the Primera take the announcement?

"Well, he didn't seem upset," Unohana reported. "In fact, he was quite protective of her after I told him."

"Not too surprising. Hollow birthrates are even lower than that of Shinigami. I suppose that's to be expected of a race that would rather eat one another than breed."

The last strap fell free and Gin landed in a bloody, messy heap on the floor. He curled into a ball and did not move after that, nor did he make any sounds. Unohana had a strong feeling Gin's lack of motion had less to do with a fear of reprisal and everything to do with a combination of starvation and near constant abuse. Many of the wounds she saw were half-healed, or reopened, which meant this might have been going on since Aizen's Ascension. Daring to look her husband in the eye, the healer decided to take a risk.

"Is this _truly_ necessary?" she said in a low voice.

"He did try to kill me."

"As did many others, and yet you have not hurt them this much," she countered. At least, she prayed he had no such plans once he grew bored with Gin. Perhaps he'd decided that being subjected to life under a Claim was sufficient punishment. Then she considered several of the cases that had walked through her office doors in the last few days.

"Hmm, true enough," he agreed and stood. He approached them and his brown eyes held just a trace of satisfaction when they roamed over Gin's naked, brutalized form. "What would _you_ recommend I do with him?"

"You put several of the others to work." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I don't see why he cannot serve in the same capacity."

The newly-reorganized Divisions needed people who knew how to run a large group of Shinigami. It would mean that someone would have to Claim him, but that was better than being left to her husband's tender mercies. Barragan was at his limit for Claimed prisoners and Gin wasn't Yammy's type, so he'd be spared the worst of it. Aizen raised both eyebrows at the suggestion and then smiled in a way that Unohana definitely did _not_ like.

"So he should make himself useful! What an excellent idea, my dear. You are a busy woman and have many duties. I generally demand perfection of my partners and, sadly, your job has left you lacking in that regard. You may tend to his wounds and, starting tomorrow morning, he will be your personal attendant. The care of yourself and your quarters will fall to him."

His decision puzzled her. That wasn't what she'd meant by 'work', but she supposed being a household servant was a better outcome than being Claimed and forced to dance at an Arrancar's whims. Aizen put the toe of his sandal into Gin's too-prominent ribs to get his attention and then kicked him on to his back.

"Do you understand Gin?" he snapped and the body below quivered.

"Hai, Kami-sama. It'd be a…delight…" Gin slurred through bloodied teeth. Unohana was shocked that he was still capable of speech, and more incredibly, that there was just the faintest bit of sarcasm coloring his tone. At least she knew he wasn't completely broken if he had the strength to sass his tormentor.

"Good. I trust you won't fail in your tasks. This room will always be waiting for you should you displease me."

With that, Aizen turned his back on them and strode through the door. Gin kept his sickly grin until the tyrant was gone. Then his eyes rolled back into his head, which dropped with a 'thud' to the floor. The healer immediately knelt and discovered he'd lost consciousness. Filling her hands with healing Kido, Unohana began to treat her newest patient.

She didn't understand about what Aizen meant by 'personal servant' or why he felt she needed one. His definition of 'perfection' escaped her as well. Nevertheless, if she could keep Gin from spending any more time in this monstrous place, she'd bloody well _find_ chores for him to perform.

If her office was an unchanging sanctuary, this chamber of horrors waiting to happen was an unwelcome addition to the Seireitei. Neither the Maggot's Nest, nor the interrogation rooms of the old Onmitsukidō had such fiendish implements for extracting confessions. He was powerful enough, infused with what he'd stolen when he'd slaughtered the Spirit King and the Royal family. He already had the means to force others into compliance. Why would he need a place like this?

Then it hit her.

He didn't _need_ it at all.

Instead, it was something he _wanted_.

Her stomach lurched.

As evening faded into night and the darkness around her grew deeper, Unohana poured her reiatsu into the task of fixing the shattered man. Occasionally she would look around the room and study the implements of torture their new ruler had collected, only to redouble her efforts. She'd never seen some of these things before. What made it worse was the knowledge that it wasn't a matter of if, but when the end results of their use would start to show up on her Division's doorstep.

Her musings from earlier in the day came back to taunt her.

Aizen had managed what she once thought impossible. He'd forced change on Soul Society and surrounding her was evidence of the direction in which he intended to steer it. All of them were as good as trapped, by various means, in the gloom.

The air around her tasted metallic, a side effect of all the bloodletting and she shook herself. There were people who needed her, like the man beneath her fingers. She had to keep things together long enough to figure a way to depose the new Soul King.

' _I won't let Ise Nanao, or Shunsui's child, ever see this place. I swear it.'_


	13. A Surprising Absence in Loneliness

A Surprising Absence in Loneliness

Nanao had been looking forward to returning to work. Starrk had been very hesitant to permit her when she'd brought it up, but in the end he had made the stipulation he would only permit it if she was in Jushiro's Division so his pet could defend her from any Arrancar that hadn't gotten the message she was his fraccion and not to be touched. Since Jushiro was his pet, and given the order to defend her, he could get away with attacking any Arrancar that would attempt to Claim her as he would only be following orders. Jushiro was strong enough to take pretty much every Arrancar on, including the Espada though they all knew of his Claim on her anyhow so there really wasn't an issue there. There was little chance that anyone else would get through him unless they attacked en mass; and she was no pushover either. Her Kido was more than strong enough to keep pretty much any Arrancar not an Espada at bay, if not outright kill them.

She'd checked, and apparently if she killed an Arrancar that was trying to Claim her there would be no repercussions, both because Starrk already claimed her as a fraccion and because if any assailant got capped trying to Claim her, they never deserved her in the first place.

Of course, finding out she was with child changed everyone's perception. While she did want to go back to work, for moping about the estate was hardly good for her mental health, she suddenly found herself with a new distraction; that of impending motherhood. Nothing mattered to her more than making sure this child was born healthy, and going outside of Starrk's protective aura was to invite danger to herself. She had never been labelled as being foolish, and she wasn't about to gain such a reputation either. She'd always been known as a practical person, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

While Nanao was positive she could defend herself until help arrived if an Arrancar, or even a pack of them, was stupid enough to make a go for her, she was not willing to risk a stray blow to her stomach that could result in losing the last thing of Shunsui's they had. She couldn't do that to herself and she certainly couldn't do it to Jushiro. He was almost looking forward to the baby more than she was.

She wanted to hate Starrk, she really did, but she couldn't find it in herself to do so. Starrk was just the sword Aizen had used to kill Shunsui. It was almost painful to look at the Espada for there was so much about him that reminded her of Shunsui. She had no doubt in her mind that the two could have been fast friends, if only he'd survived.

Starrk had recounted their battle to her. Many of the details she'd been able to confirm from Jushiro, thought it was painful for him to do so, so she knew the Espada had been truthful with her. She could find no fault to take with Starrk, for it had been Shunsui to keep pushing for the conflict when Starrk hadn't wanted to engage at all. It seemed a little odd to her, for she knew how much Shunsui usually tried to avoid conflicts, but she supposed it was their duty to cleanse hollows and Starrk was a very powerful hollow.

Even disregarding their conflicting races, Starrk was a soldier. Shunsui had been a soldier. It was sad and painful, but soldiers died. They didn't start the wars, that was the politicians. She placed Shunsui's death firmly on Aizen's shoulders, for he had been the one to start the war in the first place.

This, of course, left her at the Estate with little to do but sit in her room. Not one to remain idle, she made it her objective to take up a job she was well acquainted with; caring for those unable, or unwilling, to care for themselves. Shunsui had certainly given her a lot of experience in that area. The Estate was far too large for one person to manage, nor was she foolish enough to try, so she set a reasonable boundary for her to maintain and was quickly glad she had done so. It would seem that neither Starrk nor Jushiro had any inclination on the ways of laundry. Not too surprisingly, Lilinette was just as helpless. She supposed she couldn't blame them as they'd always had others tend to the need before.

With a goal and a mission, Nanao had rolled up her sleeves and set to work, showing those with whom she shared a roof with where dirty laundry had better end up if they valued clean clothing. She gave them the schedule for cleaning days so they would know when she would be invading their rooms, thus giving them time to put away anything they didn't want her to discover. She normally tried to have their rooms done before Jushiro got home from work, often with Lilinette in tow as the fraccion seemed to enjoy meeting up with him for some reason. While she had no proof, Nanao strongly suspected it had something to do with Jushiro's perchance of keeping sweets on and around his person. Lilinette had displayed the well known symptoms of a sugar rush one too many times for Nanao to discount the likelihood that Jushiro wasn't plying the girl with sweets when no one was looking. Lilinette looked just like a child, and if it was one weakness Jushiro had, it was children.

' _I will have to make sure to keep an extra eye out when my baby arrives,'_ she mused with an actual pleasant thought, resting an unconscious hand on the small bump that was now her belly. _'I will have to make a mental, and maybe even a physical, note to remind myself to check Ukitake-taichou's room, hanging uniforms, and any other spot I think he could hide sweets. With my years of experience hunting down sake stashes, it shouldn't be too hard to get most of them.'_

The thought was definitely amusing her as she moved over to empty Lilinette's wastebasket, noting the numerous candy wrappers and take out containers. The first just affirmed her suspicions as to Jushiro's candy handing ways.

' _I may need to have Starrk-san escort me to his division to check out hiding spots there as well. Lilinette would be unreliable, and likely an accomplice from what I have learned of her thus far. Starrk-san would be far too lazy to bother doing a through investigation, if he bothered to do one at all.'_

Finishing Lilinette's mess of a room, she moved over to Starrk's. His room was the easiest to clean as he almost never stirred himself from his nest of pillows unless it was to go out on whatever mission Aizen had for him, escort her to the fourth, or when she came to clean his room. Other than some dusting, gathering the laundry and collecting the garbage, it was easily the quickest. She found herself frowning when she noticed the large number of takeout containers, yet again, in his garbage. Lilinette she could understand, for the girl had little in the way of self control, but Starrk shouldn't be indulging in such fair so often. Her frown deepened when she made it to Jushiro's room to notice the same thing. Takeout containers and bags to rival the ones in Starrk and Lilinette's room.

"I have been seeing far too many of these over the last few weeks. It's no wonder the food in the fridge keeps going bad," she scowled aloud to herself. "Ukitake-Taichou I could almost understand as he works all day, but there is no reason for Lilinette and Starrk-san to be eating all this take out."

She had a new mission it would seem. Finishing up Jushiro's room, she headed for the kitchen that, apparently, only she had been using. It sort of made sense to her now why both the main kitchen and the kitchenette in the joint Priemera's suite were so clean all the time when the other three seldom got their rooms in order. They hadn't been using the amenities at all.

"Seriously, Ukitake-taichou should at least know better. He has his health to worry about," she grouched as she took inventory of what was in the kitchen. It didn't take her long to think of something and, tying up the sleeves to the pink, bloodstained kimono she was wearing, she set to work on making dinner. "At least he hasn't had any relapses yet," she commented to herself with relief.

Considering all the stress he'd been under, on top of the injuries incurred during the battle, it was a miracle he hadn't had one. Nanao shook the depressing thought aside as she concentrated on cutting up the rack of ribs into individual pieces and getting them into a wok of heated oil and crushed garlic.

She felt Starrk return as she was cutting up vegetables. He was so powerful that she didn't even need to try and sense him. She had worried about her unborn child being around someone so strong, but Unohana had assured her during her last check up that if it was going to be an issue she would have miscarried already. In fact, she probably never would have even noticed she was pregnant at all. That had given everyone a deep sense of relief.

Starrk headed right to his room, not to her surprise. Sometimes she wondered if he wouldn't collect dust if not for his missions. Speaking of dust, since it had been three months since any of the dishes had really been used, she found herself discarding the top, dust covered pieces and giving the ones below them a quick wipe. She was just removing the last dish from the stove when she felt Jushiro and Lilinette come through the front gate. Her timing was dead on, and that brought a small smile to her lips. She still had the organization skills of a pro.

"Ukitake-san, Lilinette-san, dinner is ready. Please get changed and come to the table. Can one of you get Starrk-san please," she called out when they were close enough to hear her.

She felt both presences pause at her call before they moved to the entranceway of the dinning room, staring at the spread she was just starting to put out in disbelief.

"Did you hear me, or should I repeat myself?" she asked sweetly.

"Uhhhhhh," was Lilinette's intelligent reply.

"This looks wonderful, Nanao-san. I will return as soon as I change. Come on Lilinette-chan, let's make ourselves presentable and get Starrk-san." Jushiro ushered the stunned Arrancar away from the doorway, presumably to change and get Starrk.

"That's Lilinette-sama to you, Shiro-chan." Nanao heard the young Arrancar shoot back as they walked down the hall.

Nanao smiled inward as she finished bringing the last few dishes to the table. Jushiro was the first to return, changed out of his uniform into a simple, navy yukuta. She'd seen him wearing things other than his uniform enough times that it hadn't taken long for the novelty of seeing him in something other than black and white to wear off. Starrk and Lilinette arrived shortly afterward. The second all but flew to a spot and start dishing out food onto her plate while the first hovered by the door, as if uncertain he was actually invited in to join them. Lilinette's initial table manners were appalling so far, but she would address that another day. _'Baby steps,'_ she reminded herself.

"It is rude to loiter, Starrk-san," she commented, taking the place across from Lilinette.

Starrk jerked as if startled, but hesitantly moved to the only seat left and sat down. Just as hesitantly, he helped himself to the display she had prepared after everyone else had already taken a portion. He almost seemed to be in a bit of a daze as the meal commenced. Nanao was at least relieved to discover that both Arrancar did have something resembling table manners when it came to actually eating, despite how enthusiastically Lilinette continued to refill her plate. Both knew how to use the utensils and she took it as a compliment to her cooking skills that Lilinette was eating everything in sight and making delighted exclamations as she tried each dish.

"How was work today?" she asked once everyone had a full plate, or in Lilinette's case, was onto her second plate already. She had no idea how the child inhaled food that quickly while still eating properly and not choking.

"The deployments went well," Jushiro answered easily. "My seated officers are finally doing their paperwork properly and all our reports got in one time with minimal mistakes."

"That is good to hear."

With so many killed and most of the surviving seated officers Claimed and no longer permitted to work, there had been a severe shortage on people that even knew how to run a division, let alone do the paperwork.

She had spent the last months in basically solitary confinement. Now that she had everyone sitting at the table, she realized just how lonely she had gotten. Subconsciously she decided that, from now on, they would be eating breakfast and dinner together every day as long as she had something to say about it. And since she doubted Jushiro was making a lunch for himself, she vowed to send him to work with a bento box as well. His heath required a good, firm diet and she wasn't going to count on the cafeteria food being acceptable.

"And what did you do today Lilinette?" she asked to keep the conversation going and to keep the oppressive silence away.

Lilinette froze with a rib halfway to her lips in surprise at the question. The Arrancar recovered quickly though and took a bite of her rib, thankfully swallowing, before answering. "Meh, did more exploring. I can't believe how many 'parks' there are. I have never seen so many trees before! And the sheer amount of water. Man, I have got to show you this river I found Starrk. There is so much water it even flows! I heard there are flowers due to come soon too, and that they will be all different colours," the young fraccion exclaimed excitedly.

"There are," Nanao answered, unable to keep a soft smile from her lips, nor was Jushiro, as they took in Lilinette's excitement. "In about a month the first one should be blooming. They can be rather pretty and the parks will be full of different colors."

Seeing Lilinette's enthusiasm reminded her that she would be having a child soon, and the thought of bringing her son or daughter out to see those sights excited her. If Lilinette was this excited over the drab winter colours, she couldn't wait to see how the fraccion would respond when the fruit trees blossomed and the festivals started.

"What of you Starrk-san? What did you do today?" she asked. ' _Other than sleep in your room of course,'_ she couldn't help but to mentally add.

If Lilinette had frozen at being addressed, there was no word for what Starrk did at being addressed so directly by her. She noticed he'd barely touched his food as well. He seemed a bit embarrassed as he answered her question. "I was reading more of the information Unohana-sama gave me about Shinigami pregnancies."

Nanao swore he actually blushed a little at the admission. She did raise an eye in surprise. He'd been rather interested in her pregnancy and had accompanied her to all three of her appointments thus far.

"Do you find it different from a hollows?" she asked before she could even think about it, curious despite herself. Jushiro also gave the Arrancar his attention.

"Don't know no pregnant hollows. Offspring are rare to the point of being almost a myth," Lilinette answered between bites. "And even if they weren't so rare, we were too strong for anyone to come near us anyhow, let alone think about getting it on. Poor Starrk never had much of a chance to screw…"

"Lilinette," Starrk warned, giving his other half a look that was half glare and half mortification. Jushiro had nearly choked on his food at Lilinette's bluntness. Nanao didn't like where the conversation was going either and was thankful Starrk had seemed fit to end it.

 _Not that I haven't heard worse from Shunsui when he got plastered… or even when he was sober a few times,_ she couldn't help but to muse in mild amusement.

"Is there something wrong with your food?" she asked him after several minutes of them eating in silence, for Starrk was still picking uncertainly at his.

"No," he was quick to assure her. "It's just… nice to sit at a table with others and enjoy a meal."

"You are trying to savour the moment?" Jushiro questioned curiously.

"Something like that," Starrk answered with a hint of a sad smile.

"Well, if you keep 'savouring' the moment, you won't be able to savour the food before it's gone," Lilinette pointed out gruffly. "Come on Starrk. This is far better than the crap Gin tried to feed us a couple of times, and the stuff you get in those container things every day."

"Of that there is no contest," he agreed easily. "Thank you Nanao-san, for this meal. It is very good," he complimented.

"Is there something particular you would like for dinner tomorrow night?" she asked.

Starrk actually dropped his utensils as he stared at her in surprise. She could practically hear the shocked 'why?' in his expression.

"It has come to my attention while cleaning your rooms that, not only are you three eating out a lot, but the food in storage is going bad because none of you seem able to cook even a simple dish. Thus, I have decided to provide breakfast and dinner to make sure you are eating healthy. You, particularly, should be ashamed of yourself, Ukitake-san. Your health demands a balanced diet, and I doubt you have been getting that eating out. Unohana-Taichou would be most displeased with you if she found out."

Jushiro had the grace to look ashamed, and go rather pale at the thought of Unohana finding out about his eating habits, while Lilinette cheered at the thought of two full meals a day and Starrk still looked like someone had smashed him in the back of the head with a board.

"If you don't want me to, I won't."

"No," Starrk quickly spoke up, looking alarmed. "I would enjoy having a sit down meal twice a day," he assured her more calmly. "Just give me the list of what you require and I will make sure it's provided."

"Actually, it would be best if I went with you. Some ingredients need to be the right kind of ripe and I should be getting some exercise with walks anyhow." She hadn't really left the estate since the end of the war and she was really starting to feel cooped up.

Starrk sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair, before reluctantly nodding. She wondered what part of the demand had him the most flustered; actually getting up to go to the markets, or having her outside of the area he deemed as 'his.'

The rest of dinner went well, as did tea and treats afterwards. By the time everything was cleaned up it was late, and she found herself crawling into bed pleasantly exhausted. For the first time in several months, she fell asleep easily.

(BREAK)

Another room down the silent hallways found the inhabitant having the opposite problem. For the first time in his life, at least as long as he could remember, Starrk simply couldn't fall asleep. His mind kept repeating the entire dinner over and over. Sure he'd had tea during the meeting with the other Espada, but outside of those meetings, despite Aizen's promises, he'd essentially been confined to his wing and continued solitude. He couldn't really blame Aizen for that, after all Kami had presented him with people who would survive being near him as promised. It was up to him to make them like him, yet he had been alone for so long that he honestly had no idea how to even begin approaching the others to offer his friendship. He envied Lilinette for her spunk and outgoing nature, for she'd managed to make a few comrades out of the others.

' _Of course, Lilinette wasn't cursed with my strength. Only the other Espada and a few of their fraccion could stand being in my presence for any real length of time, and none of them showed much interest in becoming friends.'_

Starrk sighed unhappily at the memory.

' _At least I was able to sleep with the feeling of others around me,'_ he mused. It was a tradition that had carried over here. _'I suppose I should be thankful for Taichou-san's last request. Ukitake is kind enough to sit through a few games with me some evenings. I may still be alone most of the time, but now I actually have someone to speak to. Having another presence at the back of my mind is also a welcomed thing most times.'_

He'd never held a Claim before, although it did remind him a little of merging with Lilinette, if a lot less noisy. Jushiro was a rather laid back man and that calming presence, that knowledge he wasn't alone anymore even when in an empty room, made it worth holding the man's Claim; even over the embarrassment of casting it.

 _I suppose I should thank you, Taichou-san. If you hadn't made your dying request, I most likely would never have given your companion or mate a second glance after our Victory and I would still be wallowing in loneliness._

Jushiro had been friendly with him since the beginning, and while Nanao had not been mean spirited, she hadn't sought him out either. And yet… He'd honestly thought Lilinette had been playing a joke on him when she'd kicked him awake and said Nanao had made them all dinner. He hadn't meant to be rude and not eat the fare provided, for it had been exceptionally good, but he couldn't help but to just bask being in the presence of others and not have it be work related. He couldn't even begin to describe the feeling of having been sought out for nothing more than a night of sitting together and talking. He'd dreamed about what it would be like to have friends to do such things with, and while he wouldn't consider Jushiro and Nanao as friends, the experience had been far better than anything he'd ever dreamed up.

' _And she promised we would do so again, and not just in the evening, but at breakfast too! Is it possible? Despite the fact I must keep Ukitake chained to my will, could we become companions? Do they truly hold no grudge for Taichou-san's death and my part in it?'_

Most hollows wouldn't think overly much about it unless it was a very long time pack member, mate or child, but he knew Shinigami were very different. The thought was too tempting to pass up, and the reality seemed to be mirroring it. Still, they could just as easily turn their backs on him. Well, he could force Jushiro into his company against the man's will, but it would be no different than the times he spent at those meetings where the majority of the other Arrancar were sizing him up and their chances at taking his rank. Besides, he would never force the man to do anything against his will, well, unless Aizen ordered it of course. He doubted Jushiro would ever do anything that would require him to stop the man's actions.

Perhaps, for now, he would remain cautiously optimistic over this tentative outreaching of something resembling friendship. He did have a communal breakfast to look forward to after all. If all went well, it would be just as full of others' presence as dinner had been. He found he was looking forward to that very much.

' _It is a good thing Lilinette is already asleep, or I would never hear the end of it,'_ he couldn't help but to muse.

Well, since he couldn't sleep, he turned the brightness of the lantern beside his futon up a bit and dug out the book Unohana had loaned him about Shinigami pregnancies. There were a fair number of differences from what little he knew of hollow pregnancies, and most of that was just the snippets he caught over Szayel's slumber-fest reports. Shinigami had a set nine months of gestation, at which point the baby would be born. Unlike most hollow young, this one would require years of careful nurturing, especially in the first six or so months. It was also exceedingly rare to have more than one offspring.

Of course, there was no telling if Nanao would even let him see the child, at least until it was older and she was ready to introduce it to the pack. She would likely den up and give birth there. That was fine. As the Alpha of this pack, he would make sure the den was secure and the cub kept safe. He had a vow to uphold after all.

* * *

Baby

This chapter was too small to be it's own chapter, and so I put it at the end of this one.

* * *

Starrk was normally more than pleased to find the nearest soft spot to splay out and nap, sun optional but appreciated. If it was one thing he found he loved about Soul Society, it was the warmth of the sun on his napping form. Today, however, napping was far from the object of his interest. Even if it was, the loud, occasional scream coming from his pet's room would have made it difficult. Apparently, having a cub was extraordinarily painful for a Shinigami. Not that he knew if it was much different for a hollow since he'd never met any female hollows, other than Lilinette, that had lasted very long in his presence before joining Aizen's forces. There had certainly been no cubs amongst the Arrancar and there was question if they could even breed anyhow after being changed by Aizen.

"Dear Aizen, can we put her out of her misery already?" Lilinette whined as she paced passed him, covering her ears. "Surly death would be a mercy at this point."

"Hmm," he responded to save his shins from a kicking for ignoring her, even if he didn't entirely agree. Having a baby definitely didn't sound pleasant and Nanao had been at it for hours already. "You could go get something for lunch," he offered.

"Yeah, I think I am going to go do that."

Lilinette left, leaving him alone to continue to pace on the porch outside of Nanao's room like the watchful sentry he actually currently was. The faint scent of blood had him worried and her shouts were loud enough that anyone passing by the walls might hear them, especially if they were a hollow. He was not going to risk one being drawn to the powerful, unClaimed woman obviously in distress. Nanao was stronger than a good number of the Numeros and no few would be happy to use such a weakness to Claim someone normally out of their league. He had a promise to keep after all. He was, of course, interesting in the cub as well, but he wasn't really expecting her to let him near it. Of course, there was the chance that the cub would be weak, despite it's impressive heritage, and he would have to see about housing mother and child elsewhere, maybe with the rest of Jushiro's family. He really didn't like that idea as it would be much harder for him to keep track of her and protect her from a distance.

He could hear the murmuring of Unohana as the woman attended to the labouring woman. When Nanao had gone into labour this morning, he'd panicked and jerked Jushiro home via the Claim perhaps a bit more harshly than he'd intended. Jushiro had come flying home in a panic, than proceeded to turn about and calm right down as soon as he understood the situation. Starrk had been the one sent to fetch Unohana, and only now did he realize Jushiro had sent him out to do so to get him out from underfoot. After that he'd been confined out of the room as Unohana and one of her female assistants tended to the delivery. There had been brief talk of moving Nanao to the 4th, but Starrk had declared that he would sooner keep the woman safe in the den than move her unless it was truly necessary. Unohana had conceded without a fight and didn't appear to be upset with his decision. The only concession she had demanded was if things took a turn for the worst, they would move Nanao. He'd agreed to that easily.

He was so caught up in his worried pacing that he walked right into Jushiro, splashing the cup of steaming tea his pet was holding out for him all over himself. He blinked sheepishly and accepted the cup. Most of the liquid remained at least and the portion that had landed on his clothes cooled quickly. Jushiro sat down on the porch and Starrk followed suit, mainly because if he was sitting he wasn't pacing. He also felt ashamed that he had failed at being a sentry so utterly.

 _Of course Jushiro is pack and holding my Claim, so it's no wonder my mind easily dismissed his presence. Kami knows I have done the same to Lilinette a few dozen times. I swear she actually uses it to her advantage,_ he couldn't help but to muse before another loud cry returned his thoughts immediately to the present. "Is this much screaming normal?" he asked.

"Often," Jushiro answered easily. "The baby should be arriving soon though."

"You seem rather calm."

A small smile touched his pet's lips and Jushiro tucked a strand of white hair behind his ear. "I have many siblings and have been around no few of my mother's labours. Waiting around for the baby to come is something I have experience with."

They sat in relative silence for a time. Starrk held onto the cup of tea Jushiro had delivered, but never brought it to his lips. His free hand tapped against his thigh without his knowing. Over the months Nanao had continued to make them breakfast and dinner while doing their laundry. As she'd gotten bigger some of the housework had fallen to the wayside and less of the large estate was tended to, but that was only to be expected. He'd been surprised at just how big her belly got and Lilinette had commented on it several times, much to his chagrin.

When the baby had begun to kick he'd never seen such a smile on her face, nor Jushiro's when Nanao had asked if her fellow pet wanted to feel. Starrk had wanted to feel as well, but he'd never mustered up the courage to ask and she'd never offered. The feeling he got just from sitting at a table with her and Jushiro for breakfast was enough to remind him how he wasn't alone anymore. He didn't want to do _anything_ to compromise that feeling of having others around. Even on the nights Jushiro came home late Nanao still made dinner for them and he was not shunned from the table. After several nights of attempted conversations, that were stilted and awkward, he eventually discovered that Nanao had a steel trap of a mind. He could definitely see what Shunsui had seen in this woman after that and they had a bit of fun playing things like 'end catcher.' It was a game Lilinette could at least play a bit of too before Starrk and Nanao would bring it out of her league. He discovered quickly she also had a thing for numbers and playing any kind of card game against her was often a bad idea.

Nanao gave out another long, loud scream that caused him to flinch as the volume assaulted his ears and broke him out of his thoughts. The screaming continued and it took him a moment to realize the cries were different; that they didn't belong to Nanao.

"Sounds like a girl," Jushiro commented with a soft smile. "Shunsui would have had a heart attack just thinking about all the boys that would be chasing her. He was a horrible flirt himself."

Starrk was saved from trying to find a response to that comment by the door clacking open behind them. Both men turned to stare up at Unohana as she smiled at them.

"You may come in now," she announced.

Jushiro was quick to his feet and into the room, but Starrk lingered, uncertain if Nanao would even want the killer of her child's father to be near her. Unohana simply raised an eye at him and he finally rose to his own feet and shuffled uncertainly into the room, his cup of tea cold and forgotten on the porch.

Nanao looked exhausted, her brow and hair glistening with sweat. Jushiro sat by her side, a soft smile on his lips as he gazed down at the swaddled bundle in his arms. It seemed so small, even from here. Still uncertain if he was welcomed, he remained by the door as Unohana and her assistant finished cleaning up the mess labour had created with a brisk efficiency.

"Have you thought of a name?" Jushiro asked.

"Hana," Nanao answered immediately. Exhaustion heavily laced her words, but she had enough strength left for pride to seep into her voice.

"She is beautiful," Jushiro remarked.

"She is. He would have loved her," Nanao sighed.

Starrk felt miserable and strongly debated on leaving. Cubs were so rare and his hand had prevented someone who might have been a friend from seeing this joyful moment. He had just turned to leave when Nanao's voice cut through his sudden feeling of self loathing.

"Would you like to hold her?"

It took almost a full minute for Starrk to realize that she was speaking to him. Swallowing nervously, he moved over to where Jushiro sat with the bundled baby. She seemed so tiny, so fragile. Could he dare to hold something so delicate? Would his power cause her to disappear before him as so many before her had? The choice was taken from him as Nanao took her daughter back from Jushiro before passing the little girl to him, helping him to adjust his arms until he found himself holding the fragile creature without support.

Gulping nervously, he dared to look down at the little creature in his arms. Baby blue eyes peered up at him curiously and he felt something in his chest constrict at the sight. This small cub looked up at him with an innocence that he swore was impossible, and it was in that moment, lost in that gaze, that he realized he was completely taken with the little girl; that he would do anything to make sure this cub was kept safe and raised well. He was completely unaware of the two Shinigami staring at him as his emotions ranged across his face.

"She's beautiful," he found himself repeating Jushiro's earlier observation. "I…" his throat constricted so he tried again. "Thank you for letting me hold her," he managed to get out.

"Oh sweet, the cub's here! Let me see!" Lillinette demanded as his other half came flying to his side. "It's all wrinkly, but kind of cute. How long before we can play tag?"

"At least two to three years," Jushiro answered firmly.

"What? That long?" Lilinette pouted unhappily.

Hana began to fuss and he felt panic once more take root. What had he done? Why was she suddenly unhappy? He hadn't hurt her had he?

"Sounds like someone is hungry," Jushiro chuckled.

"Oh," he very carefully handed Hana back to her mother, than blushed as the woman bared a breast for the little one to latch onto. "Come on Lilinette. I think they both need rest," he declared, making a tactful retreat.

"Awe," Lilinette pouted, but did follow after him without a fight.

Nanao did not keep him away from her daughter. In fact, he was invited to share in the little cub's life. Lilinette was ecstatic, especially once Hana learned to crawl and chase her around. The young child brought a liveliness to his pets that he could actually physically feel thanks to the Claim he had on Jushiro. And as Hana grew, he felt his world expand, literally in some cases as several buckets of water somehow found his person every summer. The soaked clothing was well worth the reminder he was truly not alone.

* * *

I have been working on a new fict that is about 96 pages long so far and roughly at the halfway point. There are several other chapters outlined and a few ready to go for this one, but I am at the point where I kind of feel like we are beating a dead horse and I am ready to move on. As usual, thank you very much for the few that take the time to review.


	14. Journey's Start - Dismay

I wrote the bones, Black Fox flushed it out big time.

Journey's Start - Dismay

Brown eyes scanned the remnants of what had, a few days prior, been a bustling Tokyo suburb, trying to determine where he was from the buildings that still stood. Karakura's once-familiar skyline was forever altered, though he guessed that if it came down to it, they could follow the river until he came across something he recognized.

Ichigo had to know, had to see for himself… even if coming here was dangerous. Not even Yoruichi had tried to talk him out of it and her protests would have been half-hearted at best. In reality, this might be their only chance to search the ruins for survivors. Aizen would be too busy solidifying his control over the Soul Society to send the Espada to round up any survivors and Ichigo wasn't going to let the opportunity to look for his family and his friends slip away.

He had to know, had to _try_ after failing so miserably.

The guilt that gnawed at him would not let him do anything else.

A weary voice spoke up behind him.

"So much devastation," Rukia said, one hand shading her wide, awestruck eyes from the sun. "I can't believe it. It's crazy!"

"And yet, there are no bodies," Yoruichi added. She wore her feline form, perching on Ichigo's shoulders as if she owned that portion of him. The rumbling, masculine tone that came with the smaller body vibrated against his shoulder and neck. "Interesting… I see no signs of fire or looting. Let's keep going."

The four of them crossed what had once been a busy intersection, if the number of cars haphazardly strewn across the asphalt was any indication. At one point, Ichigo sidestepped a pool of oil that had leaked from the cracked engine of a delivery van that lay on its side. Its crumpled front end had smashed through the window of a normally bustling, noisy _pachinko_ parlor. The young man wondered if the crash had occurred before or after Aizen had created the Ouken.

' _Probably afterwards,'_ he decided grimly and then did a double take. The arcade's name, stenciled on the glass, had been partially obliterated when the van's grill shattered it, but Ichigo recalled passing it on the few occasions that he made it over to this section of town. Holding up one hand, he turned to the left and used two fingers to point straight ahead, down a side street.

"We have to go this way. We're too far north. We need to be four or five streets south of here."

Neither Yoruichi nor Rukia questioned him, and Hachi, the fourth member of their scouting troop, inclined his head in a 'then lead the way' manner. Ichigo took that as permission. His mouth pressed into a hard, straight line, he picked a path through the piles of empty clothing, doing his best to shut out the part of him that wanted to shriek an apology to the people that had worn them. It wasn't time yet to go to pieces. Not until he had definitive proof. Not until he _knew_.

Twenty minutes went by before Rukia ventured another question.

"Can you tell where we are now?"

Ichigo swallowed hard and nodded, gesturing to yet another pile of concrete and twisted metal surrounded by glittering glass shards. It looked as if a dump truck had tipped a load of boulders onto what might have been a family-style restaurant. The lump that formed in his throat kept him from answering right away.

"Yeah, Chad and I use to hang out there, to work on school projects."

The words were hard to say and Ichigo nearly choked on them. He paused and then turned to the right. "The clinic is two blocks away. Do you sense anything?" he desperately asked the two women. He didn't trust his normally abysmal abilities at reiatsu detection to give him a correct reading when it came to their goal or anyone who might try to intercept them.

"No. It doesn't seem as if Aizen," the name fell from Rukia's mouth like bitter bile, "has sent anyone to check the city. I can't sense anything."

"They're busy with other things."

The way Yoruichi said this left little doubt as to what those 'other things' might be, only that they involved the Seireitei and those unlucky enough to be there. "We need to hurry – there's no telling when he might decide to dispatch a few Arrancar to mop up here."

"I agree. Let us not waste time on speculation."

Hachi brought up the rear, his eyes moving back and forth, as if he expected something to jump out at them from the shadows on either side of the ruined avenue. The large Vizard had accompanied them on the premise that he would be able to hide their party using one of his impressive barriers, if they ran into trouble and if they could find a place to hide amongst the damage. The last wouldn't be much of a problem - parts of Karakura were still standing while others had been reduced to ruins. At one point, Ichigo wasn't certain if the cracked expanse of pavement, lined with rubble, the remains of caved in roofs, and downed electrical and telephone wires was his street or not.

The broken sign, with its green cross that denoted emergency medicine, told him he'd finally arrived. It hung upside down on part of the clinic's exterior that had once been the second floor and now shared space with the first, and added to the sick, cold feeling in the pit of Ichigo's stomach. The roof had collapsed and portions of the brick wall that surrounded the property were missing. The mortar had given way, leaving the bricks in loose piles. Splintered wood and plaster lay everywhere. With a sinking heart, Ichigo raced towards what had once been his home.

Stepping through the first hole in the fence he could reach, he waded through the detritus searching for any signs of life. It was something of a mercy that he didn't have to claw through fallen lumber, jagged sections of drywall and pieces of broken siding; his body was elsewhere, and in his Shinigami guise, movement was relatively easy. His ears strained to hear the smallest sound, praying that he wouldn't overlook a signal that would lead him to his sisters. Eventually, he slogged through a mass of tiles and ceramic that he guessed was the upstairs bathroom, and found the twisted shell of his computer monitor beneath a remnant of the cracked soaking tub. There was no sign of the keyboard, though Ichigo did discover one of the legs of his desk rammed straight through the hard casing of his desktop's tower. Rukia worked a few feet away from him, peering through the mess and sidling around a metal examination table that had landed atop the crushed refrigerator. His panic grew the longer they searched, until Rukia waved one hand excitedly.

"Over here, Ichigo! I think I found a small tunnel!" she cried and crouched. He was by her side in a flash, his heart racing in excitement.

"Rukia…" he started before she cut him off, getting down on her hands and knees. She handed him her Zanpakuto before wriggling into the dark, impossibly narrow space she'd uncovered.

"I…oof…think I can squeeze through."

Ichigo's hands tightened around _Sode no Shirayuki's_ sheath as he waited. He heard her shuffling and the occasional muffled curse. The two presences in his mind remained silent, which was just as well. He was in no mood to deal with Zangetsu's cryptic attitude or his Hollow's nastiness. He hated them both only slightly less than he hated himself.

After what felt like an eternity, Rukia squirmed out of the space, pulling her torso and then her hips up and out. She coughed up dust and brushed more of the greyish soot out of her hair and _shihakusho._

"There is large hole down there. Two of the building's main support beams caught each other and allowed for some space below the point where they connect. There is a lot of dust and a few spots of blood. Not a lot…" she cautioned and wiped more dust from her face with the palm of her hand. "More like what someone would shed if they received a shallow cut, rather than a deep wound."

"…And?" Ichigo tried to stay calm in the face of this news. Rukia regarded him warily and her expression grew both grim and apologetic.

"That's it. There's no other sign of them," she said with some reluctance and then looked down at her sandals. "I'm sorry…"

Her apology went unheard as white noise filled Ichigo's ears. What little hope he'd had evaporated and he fell to his knees, still gripping Rukia's weapon with two white-knuckled hands. She didn't say a word. Instead, she sat down next to him, mirroring his defeated posture. Eventually, he felt her lean against him, the warmth of her smaller body soaking into his. It proved a brief distraction, a short flare of comfort quickly drowned by overwhelming pain and grief.

Something wet splashed on his black-clad knee, the warm liquid soaking into his uniform. More drops followed and he thought that it might be raining, save that the rain was body-temperature. A wave of disgust temporarily overwhelmed the sorrow that shrouded him.

' _Damn it. I haven't cried since mom died. So useless… just like then. I couldn't save them either.'_

Rukia didn't seem to have a problem shedding tears. She sniffled and began to scrub at the trails of saltwater running down her face with the back of her sleeve.

"I am _so_ sorry Ichigo," she whispered, and then repeated those words until he could no longer bear it. He flung one arm around her smaller shoulders and pulled her closer.

' _I am not the only one who lost everything',_ he reminded himself as she soaked the front of his uniform. They had yet to get to the Soul Society, but he wasn't optimistic. Not after finding what was left of Sado and Hanataro. Not after they had discovered a massive amount of blood that Yoruichi said could only have belonged to Uryuu, splattered across the sands next to a demolished Espada's stronghold. What made it all worse was that there had been no sign of Renji or Kuchiki-Taichou anywhere in Hueco Mundo. Rukia had wanted to stay and look for her brother and her best friend, getting into a stubborn, heated argument with Yoruichi before Nel warned them that they needed to escape through her Garganta as quickly as possible.

' _Staying there had been out of the question. There was no shelter, no food, and no water. With the Espada gone, other Hollows would have moved in to try to devour us. It's not as if Kenpachi knows how to hide, or at least, not well.'_

Stepping away from the little Shinigami, Ichigo took a deep breath and debated whether it would be worth scrounging through the demolished clinic for any personal items, or whether it would be physically possible after he retrieved his human body.

' _I suppose we should be thankful that lunatic agreed to watch over Nel and Hiyori while we're here. Hiyori's still too fragile to move and Nel would be as good as lost if she wandered away. Yachiru can at least keep him in line and there's nothing left to confront in Karakura. He's probably bored out of his mind though. We can't stay away too long.'_

After a short while, Rukia's shoulders stopped shaking and his tears dried, though his eyes stayed red and puffy. His family was gone, his father dead and his sisters consumed to make the Ouken, like the rest of the residents of Karakura. There was nothing more to do here. Ichigo got to his feet and helped Rukia to hers, handing _Sode no Shirayuki_ back to her with a faint 'thanks' for her efforts. She mumbled a watery-sounding reply that he couldn't make out in its entirety.

Hachi and Yoruichi were nowhere to be seen, but he knew where they were most likely headed. Turning his back on the place where his sisters had met their end, he and Rukia walked towards Kisuke's old shop, detouring a bit to check out the school, and his friends' homes. It was the same story at each stop: nothing but silence amid immense destruction. Only Tatsuki's house was still standing, but it was just as empty as the rest of the city, and each confirmation of a friend he'd never see again added to his grief.

' _Keigo, Mizuiro, Chizuru, Kyoko, Ryo… please, please forgive me. I failed everyone…'_

Tatsuki's absence was particularly painful. Ichigo could only imagine what she might have said to him, hell, what she might have _done_ to him, if she had learned how he'd let that green-eyed, bat-winged monstrosity take Orihime. The only thing he did know was that he would have deserved every blow she landed on him, and then some.

The rest of the trip to Urahara's _shoten_ was a blur, though there was a surprise at the end of it. Entering the courtyard in front of the odd little shop, Ichigo was stunned see a very human-looking Yoruichi emerge from the open front door with a large wooden box in her arms. Hachi was right behind her, carrying two more boxes. Those joined the seven boxes near the door and Ichigo belatedly realized that they were wearing _gigai_ in order to complete their task.

"Help me with this stuff," Yoruichi huffed as she set down her burden. "We need to move as much of it as we can to a safe location." She only spared them the briefest of glances, though Ichigo was sure she saw evidence of their earlier breakdown. He was grateful she said nothing about it. Instead, he heard her give an order: "Kuchiki-san, your _gigai_ is downstairs, as is your body, Ichigo. Get dressed and grab a box."

"What do they contain? Is it important?" Rukia inquired. Yoruichi snorted motioned for them to do as she'd asked. She also sounded somewhat impatient. Hachi paused and gave her a sad, knowing look before going back inside, presumably for another load.

"Kisuke's research, a few devices and projects he hadn't completed, a lot of papers… There might be something in here that can help," the woman muttered.

"Do you really think so?" Ichigo couldn't help asking this and Yoruichi pressed the heel of one hand against her forehead, eyes shut tightly.

"Maybe… we won't know until we can go through it and we _definitely_ don't want any of this falling into the wrong hands."

A sudden, terrible thought struck Ichigo and he opened his mouth. Evidently, the same thought had occurred to Rukia, because they shouted their next question in unison.

"Jinta and Ururu! Where are they?"

Yoruichi had moved to the doorway, intent on another load, but stopped. With a toss of her purple ponytail, she regarded them over her shoulder with tired yellow eyes. Then, to Ichigo's shock, he saw her smile.

"Kisuke left a receipt for two train tickets, one way, to Kyoto. That train left the day before yesterday. I've checked the kids' rooms and there are things missing, like clothing and personal items. I think Kisuke got them out of the way, just in case. If they're smart, they'll stay put."

In the midst of unrelenting bad news, the information felt like a ray of sunshine. Rukia sucked in her breath and then let it out, as well as allowing her shoulders to slump in relief.

"I'm glad. I hope…"

She didn't finish the sentence. Ichigo looked down at her as she scrubbed her already red-rimmed eyes with her hand. Knowing that old 'Hat and Clogs' had been smart enough not to gamble with the lives of his under-aged protégés helped, but it also made him angry. To him, it was evidence that the shady scientist hadn't been one-hundred percent certain that his plan to save Karakura would work.

' _If that's what you thought, why didn't you and Dad get my sisters out with them?'_ he inwardly raged, wanting to shake the dead Shinigami exile and his father by their collar and frustrated by the fact there would be no good answer. Yoruichi must have seen the dots he was connecting in his head, because she scowled at the two of them.

"Hurry up. We don't have all afternoon. This place will be crawling with people soon enough and we need to stash this in one of Kisuke's hidey-holes as soon as possible!"

He scowled right back at her as she disappeared through the doors, but decided he was too worn out, and too worn down to argue. What made it all the more surreal was that the building was still in perfect condition, so much so that he half-expected Tessai to greet him with a tray of tea the second he stepped inside the shop. Of course, that didn't happen and Ichigo tried not to think too much as he descended the stairs to the basement. Rukia followed him and nearly ran into him when he came to a halt next to a body laid out on what looked like an Army cot, a blanket draped over its shoulders.

The body abruptly snored and Ichigo drew back in alarm, until he realized that he should have expected this. Urahara might have had the good sense to send Jinta and Ururu out of harm's way, but doing the same with Kon hadn't occurred to him. Then again, Kon was something of a special case. A sudden urge to shake the mod soul awake, to talk to the feisty, plushie-dwelling, perverted twit gripped him and he reached down with the intention of grabbing his body's shoulder. A much smaller hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him before he could do that. Rukia hissed a warning softly, so as not to wake the sleeper.

"Don't," she ordered and shook her head. "We don't have time to explain things to him right now. Let me get my _gigai_ and glove and we'll handle Kon later."

She let go of him and resolutely walked to the table where her false body, in its knee-length dress and sensible walking shoes, laid. Entering it, he saw her sit up, blink furiously and then cough a small object into her hand. Stretching, a flesh-clad Rukia, minus the swollen eyes and dust, swung her legs over the side of the table and rooted in the pocket of her dress. Eventually, she fished out a familiar glove. While Ichigo waited, she hastened to Ichigo's sleeping form and tapped it lightly on the shoulder.

"Kon? Kon? Wake up."

Ichigo watched his body stir, mumble something he swore sounded distinctly indecent that involved breasts and opened its eyes. Rukia bent at the waist, leaning over him while Kon came to and rubbed the sand from one eye. As always, recognition brought swift consequences.

"NEEE-SAAAN!" Kon's voice shrieked at the sight of her. Ichigo's arms flew up in an automatic and predictable attempt to embrace the Shinigami above. At the same time, Rukia's elbow rose and her glove-clad fist tightened. Ichigo himself winced. He knew what was coming and wondered how badly his abdominal muscles would hurt when he re-entered his body.

The answer was 'quite a bit'.

"Owwwww… shit," he moaned, immediately curling up on his side in pain. Rukia flexed her fingers as her eyes followed the trajectory of the small green pill when it exited his mouth. It struck the far wall, bounced a few times on the floor and ended up rolling to a stop next to a filing cabinet. As quickly as she'd struck, Rukia deftly scooped up the soul candy and tucked it into her dress pocket along with the pink Chappy candy.

"Hurry up," she told him as Ichigo wrapped one arm around his midsection and made a face. She also pointed at a stack of boxes, some of which were large enough to contain a human corpse. He recalled that Hiyori and Shinji had worn a _gigai_ the first time he'd met them and figured that at least one of them might contain the snarky Vizard's false body. Picking up the end of one of the larger crates, he nodded and pointed with his chin towards the stairs.

With the four of them working as fast as they could, they piled everything they could shovel into boxes, bags and any other empty containers they could find lying around the shop. Then they hauled all of it up to the courtyard. When Yoruichi estimated they'd run out time to expend, she put Hachi in charge and ran off to the west in search of a vehicle. Ichigo took a few minutes to rest and used one of the larger boxes as a chair. To his surprise, a fistful of candy materialized beneath his nose.

"This will give you some energy until we can procure a proper meal for you," Hachi insisted. At first, Ichigo wanted to refuse, but while he didn't feel like eating, it was also hard to turn down the Vizard's well-intentioned order.

"Do you know where Yoruichi intends to store all of this?" Rukia's question, mumbled as she bit into the candy bar that Hachi handed to her, made Ichigo wonder just how many versions of the shielded shoten might be out there. Urahara had hidden from the Seireitei for close to a century, and the Vizards, he presumed, had done the same. It was more than conceivable to him that Karakura might be littered with 'safe spots' set up by the absent-minded genius.

"One well beyond the scope of the destruction, I would guess. We'll move after dark. It will be easier to transport all of this once the sun goes down and Shihoin-san will find a clear route out of the worst of this. No point in trying to drive if all of the roads are impassable."

Yoruichi returned just before sunset, at the wheel of a delivery van she backed into a spot between two of the buildings that hemmed in the _shoten's_ front yard. Ichigo, Rukia and Hachi all but threw the boxes into the back of the vehicle. The former Taichou offered to take on her feline form to make room for everyone in the cab, but Hachi put that idea on hold. Neither Ichigo nor Rukia could drive, and the Kido master took one look at the space available for the driver before shaking his head. Thankfully, there was just enough room for the large Vizard to squeeze into the back, sitting between the rolling door and one of the _gigai_ containers, so Ichigo left him to act as packing material and climbed into the passenger side.

They wound a careful, circuitous route through the darkened, least-obstructed streets, keeping the headlights dimmed as much as possible. Without streetlights, the way was particularly difficult and slow, and more than once Ichigo strained to see where they were going. Rukia kept quiet, wedged between him and Yoruichi as the latter gripped the wheel and cursed. Occasionally, the moon would come out from behind the clouds and pale silver light would allow for better progress, but it still took forever to reach their destination.

It was a normal, nondescript house on a secluded residential street, mercifully intact and three blocks inside the growing perimeter the military was busy erecting. A hedge and a concealed gate helped keep the truck out of sight when they arrived. With the curtains drawn, no one looking at the refuge would know that four disembodied beings were camped out in the living room, waiting for the scouting team to return. Three streets away, the flashing lights of the JSDF, the local and national authorities, and the media's spotlights glared beyond layers of tape labelled 'Danger' and 'Do Not Cross'.

Rukia's elbow dug into his side, tearing his attention away from the barrier they would have to navigate later. Yoruichi had already killed the engine and had slipped out of the driver's seat. He then heard the 'clack' of the back latch and a heavy 'thud' as she freed the imprisoned Hachi. Ichigo peered into the rear-view mirror and watched the Vizard awkwardly rub his wide lower back.

"Let's go, Ichigo. We have to be fast about this," Rukia urged and he quickly vacated the cab, letting her get out. Hachi and Ichigo hastened to the gate and as silently as possible, opened the portal wide enough to allow for the passage of bodies and boxes. Putting his exhausted brain into autopilot, the young man did as Rukia and Yoruichi directed, toting as many of the saved artifacts, boxes of records, notebooks and sheaves of paper, and the salvaged _gigai_ to the attached, single-auto garage. The nearly-invisible shields, like the one that had sheltered Urahara's shop, made his hair stand on end each time he crossed it. The wards weren't enough to deter him, but he did get a distinct impression that 'there is nothing to see here' and 'this is just another boring, middle class dwelling… move along,' when he reached the other side.

When they'd packed the last box into the garage, Yoruichi slipped the van into neutral and instructed Ichigo and Hachi to push against the front grille. It took some time, but between them, they discreetly rolled the van away from the safe house to a spot half a block away, without actually starting the engine. Sneaking back to their refuge via the alley, they eased as best they could through the gate and shut it behind them. The Vizard softly rapped his knuckles on the front door in a pre-determined sequence.

Nothing happened and Ichigo's eyes narrowed. Yoruichi rolled hers and she pushed past Hachi, who stepped aside reflexively. Sniffing, she tested the knob and made an irritated sound when it easily turned under her fingertips

"Idiots…" she grumbled and pushed the door open. Peering over her shoulder, Ichigo saw a bored Kenpachi sprawled over the living room couch. His back was to the door and his spiky hair formed an inky silhouette against the large television screen. Ichigo nervously edged around the bored-seeming Shinigami, to find Yachiru in the space between Kenpachi's sandals and the television stand. The pink haired child lay on her stomach, humming contently and kicking her feet in the air while using a bright red crayon to color in the pages of a book she'd found somewhere in the house. Ichigo thought better of asking why each of the bodies she drew had a detached head.

"I told you to keep this locked," Yoruichi said in a deceptively nonchalant voice. Hachi went still, Rukia froze in mid-step and Ichigo scanned the living room to see whether there were any good places to hide in the event of sudden, intra-Shinigami violence.

If Kenpachi understood the danger, he didn't show it, nor did he bother looking at any of those behind him.

"The uniformed pansies down the way still haven't decided to start searching th' town. We got plenty o' time. Besides, they ain't gonna see shit if they walk through that door."

It was a surprisingly solid, reasonable answer from someone who put such an emphasis on beating first and asking questions later. Thankfully, Kenpachi had a reassuringly blunt follow-up to his assumption that the authorities would be spiritually blind to them.

"I'm bored as all fuck. Why can't we go to Soul Society and start kicking asses?"

"We have no way to get there," Yoruichi pointed out, as the news program cut away to a commercial for cat food, "and even if we _could_ get there, we'd have to contend with Aizen. He has the Throne now, and all of its power. We wouldn't stand a chance in a head-on fight now. He's essentially immortal and all-seeing. I'd rather wait until the odds are better."

"Huh. That just means it would be more fun to cut him down and leave him in an immortal pile of gore," Kenpachi cackled. His laugh quickly degenerated into a more unsettling, raucous noise.

"Yeah, no one can beat Ken-chan!" Yachiru cheered, looking up from her drawing of what Ichigo suspected was a dismembered corpse. Yoruichi rolled her eyes a second time and he knew that the only reason Rukia hadn't done the same was due to her training, which ingrained deference to superior officers… even one as bloodthirsty as the Eleventh's Taichou.

"Not to interrupt your observations about our odds," Hachi coughed, "but how are the others?"

Kenpachi shrugged, and waved his big hand in the direction of the stairs. "Haven't stirred, either of 'em."

The Vizard nodded and then placed one hand on the banister post.

"If you'll excuse me. I need to renew the healing barrier around Hiyori and check on her wounds."

'Wounds' was a gross understatement. Ichigo and Rukia shared a look regarding the extent of the little Vizard's injuries. Hachi had not yet gone so far as to proclaim his companion was 'out of the woods', which said volumes about her current condition. Nel wasn't much better – the beating she'd taken at Nnoitra's hands had left the child battered and bruised, despite her Hierro. While the Kido Master went upstairs to assess his patients, Yoruichi turned to the rest and put her hands on her hips.

"Kisuke's spell on this place won't last forever. I'd say we have about three weeks before it dissipates. We'll need to lock everything in the garage while we find a better hiding spot for it. We'll leave the truck here, since I doubt anyone will come to claim it."

Warming to her subject, Yoruichi's eyes travelled to the ceiling and Ichigo could tell she was putting together the plan as she went along.

"We can't afford to take too much with us, so as of tomorrow everyone but Nel will need to be in a _gigai_. Kenpachi, you and Yachiru can make use of the ones that Kisuke created for Madarame-san and Hitsugaya-Taichou. Those are the closest fits for your body types, so try not to damage them. We'll need, at the very least, rucksacks or backpacks to carry necessities. Think you can borrow some from the neighbors without being seen?"

The big man on the couch made a derisive, snorting sound, but lurched off the couch just the same. Yachiru promptly dropped the crayons and clambered to her usual perch on his shoulder, a big excited grin on her small face.

"Che, at least it's something to do," Kenpachi groused, but ducked through the front door all the same. Ichigo watched him go and prayed that the Taichou wouldn't use his ragged-edged Zanpakuto to pick any locks, nor draw any unwanted attention from the authorities. Rukia put her hand in the air next.

"I saw at least two convenience stores on the way here," she said, bringing up a topic that made Ichigo's stomach rumble at the reminder of food. "They're not lit up, so now would be a good time to pick up prepackaged things that don't require a refrigerator."

Ichigo was about to tell her that the juice containers she favored were too heavy to carry for long periods of time when Yoruichi added something else to the list.

"Grab any cash that might be in the registers. If you can, break them open and take the paper, not the coins. If I'm right, we're going to need travelling money and lots of it."

Rukia's shocked expression mirrored his own, but after a moment to think about it, Ichigo reluctantly concluded that it was a good idea. At least she hadn't used the term 'looting.' That didn't make it any better, but they didn't have many options to begin with and the longer they took, the more those options would dwindle.

"Go with her, Ichigo. Food and money. Don't get caught. I'll keep an eye on things here. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll get back." Then she picked up the remote control to the television and clicked through the channels until she found a live broadcast. In a lower tone, Ichigo heard her say "I'll have a plan in place by then."

The next two hours involved a list of crimes that under normal circumstances would have landed him in a police station cell: breaking and entering, larceny and to top it off, desecration of the dead's belongings. He hated every minute of it, even as he emptied unopened boxes of energy bars and dried, salted squid into a tote bag he'd found on the sidewalk outside of the closest convenience store they found. Rukia had emptied out the belongings within it and wordlessly thrust it into his hands. He'd tried not to flinch as a pink cellphone, decorated with the kind of cute stickers Yuzu had favored, hit the pavement and bounced into the gutter, along with a notebook, a wallet and a hairbrush.

If there was any more room in his gut for self-loathing, the sight of the phone eliminated it. Ichigo said nothing as Rukia pulled things from shelves, picking out items that would travel well. It felt to him as if he was merely observing and that someone else was rifling through necessities, grabbing aspirin, cold tablets, vitamins and other things a human body or a _gigai_ , might need. His arms went through the motion of packing it all into the tote, until the sides bulged.

Something cold and square-shaped found its way into his hands. Looking down, Ichigo saw Rukia looking back at him with tired, dark blue eyes. His companion had pressed a box of apple juice into his hands, which had begun to tremble as he worked.

"Your body probably needs energy. I know I do. Drink this."

Ichigo stared at the faintly illuminated beads of moisture on the waxed cardboard, and the straw she'd poked through the small foil hole. When he failed to bring it to his lips, she scowled and put her hands under his elbow, forcing his fingers and the box upwards.

"Drink that now, or I swear I'll kick you out of that body and put Kon back into it. He'll do what I tell him to do, even if you won't."

He blinked at her. A glimmer of moisture threatened at the corner of one of her eyes. She might have the discipline that serving in the Gotei 13 had instilled in her over the long years to fall back on in a pinch, but doing this was no easier on her than it was on him.

Putting the end of the straw into his mouth, he began to drink. Once he started, he couldn't seem to stop; the sweetness on his tongue, the cold and his own overwhelming thirst hit him at the same time. Soon he finished it, only to find another box, this one grape-flavored, ready to go. In all, he guzzled four boxes of the liquid, while Rukia downed three. When they were done, she indicated that he should throw them away in the basket behind the empty counter while she dealt with the register.

Dehydration and low blood sugar addressed, they gleaned about twenty-five thousand yen from the till. Rukia asked if it would be wise to look for a safe, but Ichigo shook his head. Smashing into a register was one thing, but safecracking was well outside his high school skill set. They left the store the same way they'd entered it, through the broken window, and set about looking for another grocery.

In all, they hit four stores, scavenging what they thought would be most helpful, until they had two large bags of what Ichigo hoped would tide them over until they could find a better, more permanent place to hide. Retracing their steps wasn't as difficult as he thought it would be. It was past midnight and he was on his last legs. Hachi opened the door of the safe house for them, and took the bags from them. The big man ushered them up the stairs, pushed them into what appeared to the master suit and promptly doused the lights. It was less a suggestion than an order, one Ichigo could not defy. He fell face-first on the bed, curled on his side and allowed the near pitch darkness to swallow him.

When he awoke, gray light leaked into the room from beneath the drawn shades. The clock on the bedside table told him it was mid-morning, and the warmth on the other side of the bed lingering on the coverlet informed him that Rukia had recently vacated that spot. Scrubbing his face with his hand, he got up and stumbled to the washroom, to pour some cold water over his head. Someone was talking on the first floor, but he couldn't make out the words. The downside of regaining his senses was that he remembered everything with crushing clarity.

Ichigo barely recognized the wan, haggard man in the mirror, his bright hair a sharp contrast to unhealthy tone of his skin and smudges below his eyes.

' _I look like shit,'_ he finally decided, and reached for a towel. About to put it back after giving his hair a quick rub, he paused and draped it over his arm. It might come in handy at some point in the near future, depending on where they went next.

His stomach reminded him that man could not live by stolen juice alone, and with a sigh he left the bathroom and made for the stairs. On his way down, he found out that the voice he'd heard earlier belonged to a television newscaster, rattling off information to his viewers about the catastrophe that had befallen the city of Karakura, Japan. Yoruichi and Rukia sat on the couch, Yachiru sat on the floor and Kenpachi leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Their collective gaze was on the screen. Nel sat in the space between Rukia and the former Taichou, wrapped in a blanket. Her gray eyes lit up when they spied him and she freed one hand to wave at him.

"Itsygo! Nel's feelin' better! We're watchin' the soldiers!"

Nel was the only one in the room with a smile and Ichigo struggled to turn up the corners of his mouth to match hers. Instead of replying, he finished his descent and came around to Rukia's side of the couch.

"It's been non-stop coverage," Yoruichi said flatly.

"… _loss of lives. When questioned, the head of the Karakura General Hospital had this to say:"_

" _I had no prior warning that such a catastrophic event would take place. It was pure coincidence that I chose to relocate patients and the majority of my medical staff to Meijo Hospital three days ago. The renovations and mold mitigation were scheduled months in advance."_

" _Investigators say that, at the moment, the hospital owner and administrator, Ishida Ryuuken, is not under investigation. Paperwork filed and permits obtained in the last sixty days relating to the temporary closure back up his claims. For now, Ishida-san and his staff are cooperating fully with the authorities, both national and international, as the government tries to pinpoint how and why over one hundred-thousand Japanese citizens vanished in the space of a single afternoon."_

" _We now go to our correspondent Akamatsu Yui, reporting live from the eastern edge of the JSDF blockade. Can you tell us anything new, Akamatsu-san?"_

" _Thanks, Iwamura-san. I'm afraid that information is scant at the moment. The armed forces are currently overseeing the evacuation of every structure within a twenty kilometer radius of the disaster epicenter. People are asked to take only what they absolutely need with them, including important personal identification documents. The Red Cross has set up temporary shelters at several sites around the Tokyo metropolitan area and additional shelters have been opened in Sagamihara and Yokohama. Lists of these shelters can be found on the prefecture website, and on government websites, as well as the International Red Cross."_

" _There has been some speculation in the media and online that this was a possible terrorist attack using a previously unknown type of chemical weapon, though the JSDF has yet to make any announcement regarding a definitive cause. Can you tell the viewers what you've been allowed to see?"_

 _"Other than the stream of residents out of what the field teams are calling a 'buffer zone', most of whom are being directed to shelters and other aid facilities, I can tell you that we've seen very little. We have seen several teams wearing suits designed to keep out hazardous and biological contaminants dispatched to the affected areas, but we have not been allowed to interview them. So far, the only survivors of whatever occurred in Karakura are those who, for whatever reason, were not in the city at the time."_

Ichigo's throat felt dry again, and the hunger that had driven him downstairs faded.

He only knew one person with the last name 'Ishida' and that person had only mentioned his father a few times. Uryuu hadn't been on good terms with the man, from what Ichigo could tell. Something about his father not wanting to uphold Quincy honor or ideals. However, the young man could not believe that the elder Ishida was completely ignorant of his son's activities… or the danger his helpless, hospitalized patients faced.

An awful thought struck him: if Uryuu's father was still alive, Ichigo had an obligation to inform him of his son's fate. The problem was that he had almost no idea _how_ Uryuu had died. There had been no body, just the blood. Ichigo wanted to sink to the floor and bury his head in his hands, but Yoruichi's voice sliced neatly through the misery that threatened to smother him.

"Well, that's the second bit of _good_ news we have had since this shit-storm started." She said this with a half-hearted smirk, a lackluster effort for the normally confident woman. Yoruichi got to her feet and crooked a finger, beckoning everyone into the kitchen. "Let's polish off whatever's in the refrigerator and cupboards and then start packing. We can afford to stay another night, but after that we'll need to get as far away as possible."

"How far away?" Rukia ventured, as Ichigo took the spot she'd vacated on the couch.

"Far. We might have to go as far south as Kagoshima, or as far north as Wakkanai. We might even need to leave Japan altogether if Aizen goes all out looking for us. If we're lucky and if we don't leave an obvious trail, they might write us off as dead."

The names meant nothing to Rukia, but Ichigo paled, knowing those cities were on opposite ends of Japan.

"Are you sure we need to go that far?" he asked, hoping he'd heard wrong, or that she was exaggerating about actually hiking half the length of the country. "How the hell do you plan to get us there? We didn't find that much cash last night."

"We'll walk, if it comes down to it," Yoruichi replied coolly and ran her fingers through her hair, freeing a few tangles from the purple strands in the process. "I have some funds stashed in various places, and I'm certain that the Vizard had some yen put aside for a rainy day if they needed it. It won't last forever, but it will buy us some breathing room and some space. After that, we get jobs while we think up a counterattack."

She didn't bring it up, but Ichigo wondered if they'd end up stealing food with such a sketchy plan. He certainly hoped not. Despite his reputation as something of a delinquent, and the fights others had picked with him, he wasn't a true delinquent. At first, he considered the idea of living hand to mouth in his own country, on the run while they tried to come up with a way of deposing Aizen, insane. Then his conscience, already battered, tore into what was left of his pride.

 _'Maybe you should have considered this possibility before you fucked up and lost to that Espada. No one else to blame but yourself for what's happened. Get used to it.'_

The harsh reprimand didn't come from his Hollow, but it was enough to keep him silent through the meal that followed. Ichigo ate automatically without tasting the food put before him. He also refrained from speaking while Yoruichi divvied up tasks for the day.

The house had no attic, but there was a cellar and they spent part of the day moving Urahara's research papers from the garage to a protected spot below ground. They packed what they could fit into the knapsacks that Kenpachi had found and Ichigo tried to lose himself in the process, rolling sleeping bags and sorting through clothing that he thought might work if they needed to sleep out of doors during the coming months. Yoruichi left a few hours before sunset, in cat form, telling the rest of them to stay put while she checked on the JSDF buildup and the police presence.

Early that evening, Rukia passed around a plate of sandwiches she'd hurriedly made, keeping one nervous eye on the newscast for any sign the powers that be were ready to move into Karakura proper. Hachi took three of them, mentioned that Hiyori was doing much better than he'd expected and earned a hearty backslap from Kenpachi. The sandwich he hadn't eaten yet flew from his fingers, only to be caught by a small black form that entered from the half-open kitchen window. Yoruichi landed on the table, dropped the food she'd already begun to gobble and quickly finished it before Hachi could complain.

"We leave tonight," the cat's gravelly voice informed them after washing her whiskers. "The roads are, as expected, blocked and while there's still foot traffic on the outer perimeter of the buffer zone, I don't think we'll be able to blend enough, even in civilian clothing, with the residents. That leaves one way out."

"The river…" Ichigo started to say and Yoruichi nodded, confirming his suspicions.

"They've set up guards along the footpaths that parallel the waterway, but the real action is downstream, to the southeast. They have people sampling the river for contaminants looking for poisons, or fallout, or what have you. It's a mess – too many people and too many obstacles. However…"

"… No one would conduct such studies on water that isn't considered a potential problem yet," Rukia finished for the older Shinigami. "So we follow the river to the northwest. How many guards along the walkways and bridges?"

"Nothing inside the perimeter. Just past the bridge, they've stationed a soldier on either bank, with a full kit, including weapons," Yoruichi replied and her tail swished back and forth. "Beyond that, I'm sure there will be more officers of various sorts, but once we've dodged those, we can pick our way through them using the alleyways and side streets.

"We only need to distract one of them long enough to sneak through."

"How are we going to do that? Won't the guard on the other side of the river see us? They'll have flashlights."

Ichigo swore he saw the damned cat grin at his question.

"Glad you asked, Ichigo…"

* * *

Yoruichi's plan turned out to be relatively simple: misdirection coupled with a large distraction near the water's edge. The concrete sidewalk that handled pedestrian traffic lay halfway up the bank, between the reedy shallows and the street above. Ichigo didn't entirely like it – the banks were open and grassy and there wasn't much room for six people to hide. Nel didn't have a _gigai_ and clung to Ichigo's shoulders like a leech, the way she had in Hueco Mundo. Kenpachi and Yachiru, wearing the _gigai_ that had once housed Ikakku and Yumichika, weren't exactly models of stealth and Hachi was just too large for anyone to ignore for long, even if he hadn't been carrying a groggy, nominally-healed Hiyori in his arms like a doped, muffler-bundled princess. Around midnight, they stopped between a copse of trees and shrubs and the masonry of the bridge. There was barely enough cover and Ichigo ducked down as far as he could, hiding his telltale hair under his jacket's hood so that the color wouldn't give them away.

At first, Ichigo thought their chances of making it by two well-trained members of the JSDF would be impossible. That was before he saw the two sentries. Their backs were turned _away_ from the city, not towards it and Rukia's earlier observation came back to him. Of course, he realized, their focus would be on keeping looters and the press _out_ of the area. The military and the police wouldn't expect anyone to come _from_ the ruins.

"Itsygo, Nel pwomises she'll do her best!" he heard a small, lisping voice whisper in his ear. "Nel's not weally stwong, but Nel c'n do this much…"

"Do what you can," he whispered back and then winced when Rukia's elbow found his side, telling him via pain to keep it down.

A faint rustling sound, almost imperceptible from where they crouched and waited, reached them. It came again, louder this time and Ichigo felt Nel tense against him. The response was the sound of booted footsteps on pavement, stopping only a few yards below them. A darker man-shaped blot against the moonlit river, holding a heavy flashlight in a defensive position, trained the beam on the river's edge.

"Who's there? State your name!"

Nel gripped Ichigo's shoulder, the fabric of his coat clenched tightly in her chubby fists. Whatever the little Arrancar was doing was working. The reeds on the bank were moving furiously, back and forth, as if something large and dangerous lurked there, waiting to pounce.

The guard had left the path, as Yoruichi had predicted and had his pistol out, training it on the murky water.

"I said come out now!"

At that point, two things happened at once. The soldier, in full gear, lurched forward, as if he'd been hit by a massive gust of wind. His momentum was enough to propel him headfirst into the river, creating a huge splash, and a smaller one when the pistol went under. Ichigo was happy to hear a solid 'carpools,' rather than the crack of actual gunfire. At the same time, Rukia grabbed Ichigo's elbow and pulled him onto the slanted concrete slope beneath the bridge. He got the hint, moving as fast as he could through the shadows to the other side while the soldier flailed. The same force that had put the soldier in the river kept him there, preventing him from crying out to his counterpart across the waterway. The splashing hid any sounds their passage made. Not until the last of the _gigai_ -clad refugees had crossed beneath the bridge did the hapless sentry surface for air. His soggy screech was loud enough to get the attention of those on the bridge's road, and behind them, Ichigo heard the first shouts of alarm.

Per the plan, Ichigo and Nel hung back while the others trotted around them, sprinting as best they could for the next set of bushes and trees on the embankment. Turning his head to the side, Ichigo saw a drop of sweat roll down Nel's cheek. The Arrancar child's eyes were closed and her breathing was heavier than it had been before their crossing attempt. The poor guard lost his footing again, pushed down by the force of Nel's reiatsu focused upon him, this time falling flat on his back.

"Jus' a lil' more…" she whimpered and Ichigo reached up to place his palm on her mask, in an attempt to comfort her. He then tapped the ridge of bone along one of the eye sockets to let her know she could ease up.

"Good job," he murmured as he slunk behind a row of leafless bushes, taking care not to snap any twigs or allow his feet to make too much noise. He heard more voices join that of the waterlogged guard and additional flashlight beams fanned out in the darkness, throwing circles of light in crazy arcs.

"What happened!" a newcomer shouted. After some coughing and hacking, the first soldier answered.

"I heard a noise near the bank and someone pushed me into the river. They were holding me under!"

"There's no one here… unless you're talking about that cat."

"What cat?"

"The black one… it was right over there!"

A circle of yellow illuminated an empty patch of reeds and grass.

"It wasn't a cat! It was too big for a cat! It held me under the water and tried to drown me, I tell you!"

Ichigo ducked his head, turned his back and slipped away, not bothering to hear the rest of it. Nel and Yoruichi had done their respective jobs and there was no need to linger. He darted along, following the route the others had left, mostly due to Nel's perceptions. The young man steered clear of bright lights, past the crowds of press corralled into official waiting areas with their cameras and the squads of law enforcement equipped with more weapons than any Shinigami would ever need. Eventually, he caught up to the others, busy catching their breaths in the postcard-sized backyard of a suburban house. Kenpachi had propped up Yoruichi's empty human body against the side of a gardening shed, while Hachi hovered over Hiyori. Something warm and furry rubbed up against his ankle, which made Ichigo jump in alarm, until he realized who it was. A minute later, Yoruichi's _gigai_ was on its feet, stretching her arms and yawning.

"See? Easy as pie. Good work, Odelschwanck! Now, which way do we go? North or south?" the woman pondered. She took the coat that Rukia held out to her and zipped it up to her chin.

"South," Ichigo responded immediately. "It's only going to get colder the farther north we go and we won't freeze if we have to sleep outside."

"A good point," Yoruichi conceded, "but that means we'll have to circle around and skirt the buffer zone. We should take any roads that hug the foothills if we can. Any pursuers will have a harder time finding us in the trees or on hiking trails. I want at least six kilometres between us and Karakura before dawn."

They shouldered the heavy packs once more, passed a bottle of water among them and set out. An hour passed, and then another as they trudged down empty streets, and vacant homes. Half-an-hour after ducking through two unavoidable checkpoints and promising that they would take a sleeping Hiyori to the closest hospital, Nel went stock still. In her tremulous, childlike voice she said, "Someone opened a Garganta."

The announcement was enough to make them pause in their tracks. Yoruichi tucked her chin into the collar of her coat and let out a long breath. The cloudy white vapor hovered there for all to see, mingling with their own.

"I suppose Aizen wants to make sure he finished the job. He was bound to turn up the heat at some point."

"S'bout time," Kenpachi agreed, though his was a more gleeful observation. Rukia openly scowled at what he implied. Even Hachi cast a disapproving look at the berserker wearing his former 3rd Seat's _gigai_. Ichigo merely found it ironic that this time Ikakku's deranged smile wasn't merely an imitation of his superior officer's toothy grin.

"Don't even think about it. We're in no shape to take on Aizen's troop. If they do catch up or find us, you can play with them all you want." Ichigo was certain the last part was a bone meant to keep the bloodthirsty man from doing something stupid. Ikakku or rather, Kenpachi's face contorted in irritation.

"Che. I really do hope they find us," Kenpachi growled as the rest picked up the pace, determined to remain free of Aizen's clutches. Ichigo debated whether or not to turn around, to see if what Nel had said was true, but he had no reason to doubt her. Taking the time to consult with his Hollow seemed a waste of effort.

More importantly, there was no real reason to look back. Everything that had made Karakura his home for the last fifteen years was gone… his family, his friends, his teachers, his school. All of it reduced to scrap, thanks to his failure at freeing Orihime-chan and his failure to confront Aizen. Each footstep connecting with cold asphalt was a step towards an atonement he wasn't even certain he'd be able to make. The only thing he could do was to try use the rest of his life to try to make amends to all of the souls he'd let down.

Rukia, sensing that he'd fallen behind, turned around and gestured for him to hurry. Ichigo hunched his shoulders and did as he was told, hoisting Nel higher in his arms as the sun peeked over the tops of the tall buildings in the distance.

He owed them, and Karakura that much, no matter how painful the journey.


	15. Snow Melt

This chapter is brought to you by Black Fox. From this point onward I make no promises on time line accuracy as new chapters go up. There well be notes as to where the events take place in regards to POV though.

Snowmelt

 _Friday, August 17_ _th_

 _Six years prior to Aizen_ _'_ _s downfall_ _…_

"So… what do you think?"

Ichigo tugged on the slightly-too-short sleeves of his windbreaker and let his eyes wander around the abandoned warehouse's cavernous main interior. A quick scuff of his boot sent a small cloud of dust particles upwards. They briefly glittered in the weak shafts of light streaming through one of several holes in the ceiling. Rukia's question went unanswered and he debated whether or not to tell her what he really thought or give her a reply that would allow him to walk without a limp. They'd jimmied open one of the rolling metal doors meant to accommodate a delivery truck and only managed to lift the rusty thing halfway. If he concentrated, he could hear the faint 'plink… plink' of water dripping, a remnant of the late summer thunderstorm that had rolled through earlier that afternoon. Ichigo was certain they'd find puddles on the floor if he looked long enough.

"It's filthy," he finally declared, running his hands through his shaggy orange hair, "and cold." The bad thing about it was that it wasn't the _worst_ place they'd chosen to stay during their decade-long attempt to keep out of Aizen's clutches. There weren't many comfortable options in tightly-packed Japan for a group of people their size, even if half of them were non-corporeal. Kenpachi and Hachigen each took up enough room for three normal-sized people, and both Hiyori's mouth and temper were large enough to require a separate, dedicated space. The _gigai_ issue was an additional problem – it wasn't likely that they'd be able to outrun the consequences if anyone accidentally discovered the Vizards' and Rukia's false bodies. A hotel was right out, but affording such lodging was a pipe dream under their current circumstances anyway. That left a string of seedy dives that barely qualified as shelter, let along decent housing.

The only real thing for which he felt gratitude was that his little sister Yuzu was in a much safer and drier place. He and the rest of the Escapees could endure hardships like a lack of running water or electricity, but his baby sister? No, she was better off where she was. At least, that's what Ichigo told himself. If he repeated it enough, he might someday come to believe it.

At present, they needed to move their headquarters and quickly. Yoruichi had come back from her latest spying trip to the Seireitei with news of a changeup to the Shinigami patrols and immediately gave the two of them the task of scoping out potential safe-houses for the coming winter. Then their leader had turned right around and gone back to the Soul Society, intent on rendezvousing with one of her many contacts. She'd wanted to drop off a report on the escalating number of natural disasters tied to the growing imbalance of souls.

"Plus the roof's leaking," Ichigo pointed out, knowing what Rukia's reaction was going to be, yet saying it anyway. He wasn't disappointed; she glared at his assessment of the warehouse's shortcomings.

"It just needs a good cleaning and a few repairs," she snapped and gestured towards the second floor offices, which he could see if he tilted his head up and squinted. The only light came from the windows above and he doubted the few fixtures hanging from the support beams worked. "There are plenty of rooms up there we could convert to sleeping quarters, and there has to be some sort of breakroom with a kitchen…"

"You mean _after_ we evict the rats. I think I saw one scurry around the corner back there."

Rukia's response involved a great deal of eye rolling.

"Pfft! Every urban area has a vermin problem. Stop being such a _wuss_ , Ichigo! This place didn't manufacture foodstuffs, so there's nothing here for them to scavenge. It certainly isn't as bad as that old amusement park where we stayed last spring."

' _Fair enough_ ,' he thought and made a face at the unpleasant memory. The aforementioned property, with its derelict rides and deserted buildings, had seemed like a reasonable spot to hole up for a few months. However, a dual infestation of low-level Hollows and preternaturally smart rats made their little group of rebels pull up stakes within three weeks. While she was probably right in that they wouldn't have to deal with an army of four-legged pests, Ichigo could see other signs that made him think they'd be better off elsewhere.

"I like the graffiti. Which gang do you think painted it?"

Rukia's anger deepened at his barely-hidden sarcasm and she put her hands on her plaid-skirted hips. Exasperation radiated from every pore of her _gigai_.

"Don't tell me you're _scared_ of a few punks? You used to eat guys like that for breakfast!"

Ichigo's shoulders tensed. When Rukia said nothing more, daring him to deny it, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans and turned away. Any willingness to bicker with her evaporated. Pushing past, he walked through the shadows towards the stairs that would take him to the second floor.

"Chad was with me then," he muttered as he stalked past her, and then added "and I'm _not_ fifteen anymore."

Along the way, his foot found an empty soda can, probably left there by whoever decided to redecorate with red spray paint. Ichigo kicked it into the gloom, where he heard it bounce against something solid. She didn't immediately follow, which was just as well.

 ** _There ya go again. This is gettin_ _'_ _real old, King. Real old._**

Ichigo started up the stairs and immediately withdrew his hand from the railing when he detected something both sticky _and_ gritty coating it. The nasty sensation matched the sand-in-the-shorts irritation he felt when the monster lurking in his inner world dropped by for an unwanted visit.

 ** _That_ _'_ _s real nice. Glad t_ _'_ _spend quality time with ya too._**

 _Leave me alone. I_ _'_ _m not in the mood._

 ** _Ya never are. This dump ain_ _'_ _t so bad an_ _'_ _it ain_ _'_ _t as if you don_ _'_ _t have a built-in exterminator. Let that Taichou pull_ _'_ _er weight catchin_ _'_ _mice for a change._**

Ichigo snorted at the notion and continued to climb.

 _She_ _'_ _d have my head the minute I suggested it. There are better ways to die._

 ** _There are better ways to live too. Lemme give ya a few ideas._**

He was halfway up the stairs, trying not to touch anything in the process when the world around him warped and faded. The steel staircase risers he had yet to ascend melted and…

… _took on the shape of sheets covering an immense bed, the edge of which he could not see thanks to the naked bodies parked squarely in his field of vision. One was small, black-haired and lithe. The other was buxom and leggy, with long turquoise hair that spilled over the messy bedding. The only part of the two women he could not see were their faces, as each of their respective heads were buried between the other_ _'_ _s spread thighs. Their hips undulated in a similar rhythm and Ichigo didn_ _'_ _t have to wait long for one of them to break away from what she was doing to moan. That allowed for a view of Rukia_ _'_ _s bare sex and a thin string of saliva that connected her drenched inner lips with Nel_ _'_ _s pink tongue_ _…_

Ichigo promptly missed the next step.

He fell forward, wide-eyed as the real world temporarily came back via a sharp pain to his kneecap. A string of curses left his mouth, blistering the air around him and he sucked in breath after breath, trying to clear his head.

"Ichigo!"

The shout, coming from below, sounded oddly tinny and he shook his head, hoping he wasn't imagining things. Evidently, his Hollow wasn't done with him, because a rush of static replaced it, which then separated into two streams of needy pleas…

" _Ichigo-sama, we_ _'_ _re sooo ready for you!_ _"_

 _Rukia and Nel laid belly to belly, with the Shinigami on all fours and the Arrancar on her back, her legs held apart by the other woman_ _'_ _s spread thighs. Rukia_ _'_ _s hooded eyes met his over her shoulder and a rush of lust so strong it actually hurt struck him. Nel_ _'_ _s hands stroked Rukia_ _'_ _s back, then slipped over her bottom and slid between her nether lips, opening them. Her other hand wormed between her and Rukia_ _'_ _s bodies and did the same to herself._

" _Please, Ichigo-sama, hurry up!_ _"_

" _Which one of us are you going to Claim this time?_ _"_

"ICHIGO!"

This time the piercing shriek originated less than an inch from his ear and there was no way his Hollow's perverted imagery could last under such conditions. The lurid vision shattered and Ichigo realized his right cheek was pressed against the waffle-texture of a metal step, as were both palms. Blinking, the grungy warehouse in all its un-splendor came back into sharp focus, as did the pressure of a hand between his shoulder blades.

"Fuck…" he croaked and tried taking inventory, to make certain he hadn't lost any body parts while tripping _up_ the stairs. This resulted in a lot of painful, though informative, feedback.

"OW! Sonofabitch!"

A small pair of hands grabbed his left bicep and pulled on the sleeve of his jacket.

"What the hell was that? Are you all right?"

' _Yeah, I_ _'_ _m fantastic,_ _'_ he thought blearily and then shoved his torso upright before the bastard in his head could throw anything else at him. Rukia's proximity did nothing for his composure and he was very glad that his jacket was open. The hanging sides of the garment concealed what was probably a very noticeable bulge in his jeans. If she saw _that_ , he wouldn't have to worry about Yoruichi killing him. Rukia would beat her to it.

Ichigo also made a promise to himself to tear the perverted psycho taking up valuable real estate in his brain a new one… with a set of rusty hedge clippers if he could find them. Or maybe a broken pipe. There had to be something in this dump he could use as a weapon.

"'M fine," he growled and shrugged, dislodging her in an effort to keep his front half out of view. "Don't worry about it. Just… don't."

The alarm on her face reverted to a thin-lipped frown and Rukia huffed as he regained his feet. She'd wedged her smaller form between his body and the railing, so instead of trying to grab the metal bar, he placed his hand on the opposite wall. The last thing he wanted to do was touch her, with _that_ appalling fantasy still dancing around in his cranium.

Of course, that meant that she took what he said the wrong way. Rukia pressed her lips together until they created a straight, grim line and dropped his arm.

"Whatever. Excuse me for giving a damn!"

She ducked her head and stomped ahead, the metal staircase shaking with each footfall. Ichigo watched her skirt swish back and forth on the way up and then closed his eyes. Things had just gone from unhappy-but-manageable to downright hostile, thanks to his Hollow's oversharing.

As for _what_ he'd overshared…

 _You_ _'_ _re the vilest creature in the goddamned universe, you know that right? I can_ _'_ _t believe I_ _'_ _ve got you creeping around my skull! You_ _'_ _re sick!_

 **… _an you need to get laid in th_ _'_ _worst possible way. Wouldn_ _'_ _t it be nice ta come home after a hard day on th_ _'_ _construction site, or whatever it is ya do ta kill time when Kenpachi ain_ _'_ _t beating your wimpy ass black_ _'_ _n blue, and have a couple a_ _'_ _crumpets waiting for ya? I could make that happen for ya._ We _could make that happen, King, unlike those two wannabe Arrancar ya call_ _'_ _roomies_ _'_ _. Just say the word._**

 _Never. Not in a thousand years would I subject Rukia or_ _…_ _geez, what the hell is wrong with you? Nel_ _'_ _s just a little girl!_

Ichigo detected maniacal laughter from a dark corner of his inner world, coupled with a healthy dose of derision.

 ** _Didja miss out on the last five years? That pink-topped fat-ass fixed her mask a long time ago and damn, didn_ _'_ _t he do a bang-up job of it? She ain_ _'_ _t a brat no more!_**

He took his time reaching the top, only to find Rukia hadn't waited for him.

 _I don_ _'_ _t think of her that way. I can_ _'_ _t! I_ _'_ _m too used to seeing her as a child._

This time he could all but see the sneer on his Hollow's masked face.

 ** _Sure ya do. That_ _'_ _s why you_ _'_ _ve got a stiff one going. Haven_ _'_ _t ya noticed all th_ _'_ _attention she_ _'_ _s been throwin_ _'_ _yer way, or are ya just blind_ and _stupid? What about th_ _'_ _little snowflake? Maybe watchin_ _'_ _someone else eat_ _'_ _er out does it for you. I say, let me Claim both of_ _'_ _em an_ _'_ _order_ _'_ _em ta stop fightin_ _'_ _over ya. Then ya can ride_ _'_ _em until ya put cubs in their bellies!_**

Ichigo wondered if Rukia would forgive him if he banged his head against the closest wall until the torment stopped.

 _Shut the fuck up, or I swear, I_ _'_ _ll crawl in there and throttle you!_

 ** _Hey, I_ _'_ _m just telling ya all th_ _'_ _things yer too chicken ta deal with on yer own. Why don_ _'_ _t ya do somethin_ _'_ _about it before yer frosty princess decides ta kick ya in th_ _'_ _guts again_ _'_ _cause she_ _'_ _s pissed yer wearin_ _'_ _Odelschwanck_ _'_ _round yer shoulders like a scarf_ _…_**

The slithery, mocking voice dwindled, which was a blessing, since Ichigo's head already hurt from the unexpected contact with the step, nor was his knee doing him any favors. Wishing he had a bottle of aspirin or maybe a beer, he decided against venturing down the elevated walkway. Instead, he braced his back against the wall and faced the huge space beyond the safety railing.

From this vantage point, he got a much better view of the place. It was certainly big enough. There was more than enough room to train, which was what had probably drawn Rukia here on her solo scouting trip three days ago. There were no leaking skylights on this end of the vast building, so the rooms on the second level would be dry. It was already trashed, so a few more scorch marks on the walls and ceilings wouldn't tip off the owner/slumlord that a pack of vagrants had set up shop on both floors and other than some easily picked locks, he saw no evidence of any security company presence… no cameras, no warning notices, no guard dogs. That was surprising, given the value of Tokyo real estate. That no one wanted to spend good money safeguarding the complex meant that the owners weren't able to unload it or rent it out, or there was something else keeping it empty. If so, the Escapees wouldn't have to worry about anyone selling the property out from under them for a while.

' _I probably shouldn_ _'_ _t say anything about having to keep the homeless out. Technically, we ARE the homeless._ _'_

He could see why Rukia would think this might be an acceptable solution. Perhaps his Hollow was right and he was being too hard on her for reasons that had nothing to do with their diminished circumstances. This was in a commercial district, rather than one of the old decaying suburbs, where stray, low-level Hollows were becoming more common, so they wouldn't have to worry about running into as many Shinigami patrols.

' _Maybe I_ _'_ _m overthinking this. It_ _'_ _s not perfect, but it_ _'_ _s better than the cramped basement we_ _'_ _re in now._ _'_

Hachi _had_ successfully concealed the Vizard's old lair, which had been roughly the same size, for half-a-century. The eight of them had initially made do with smaller safe-houses, so as to not tax the Kido Master while he spent a few precious hours each night trying to mend Nel's mask. He'd become much better at creating barriers and barrier modification in the last few years, so maybe he would be up to the task of safeguarding something this size again.

' _I_ _'_ _m making Rukia_ _'_ _s case for her,_ _'_ Ichigo realized and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew his resentment about the way things had worked out was his problem, not hers. It really wasn't Rukia's fault that at twenty-five, he'd been reduced to living one or two steps above one of those laid-off middle-aged salarymen in the park, hunkered down in their cardboard boxes with their sleeping bags, dirty suits and hopeless eyes.

It also wasn't her fault that his future had turned out so differently than he'd imagined.

"Dammit…"

Ichigo scratched his scalp, rubbed the red welt on his forehead again and went in search of Rukia. Along the way, he poked his head into a few of the unlocked rooms. Most of the filing cabinets, computers and other equipment were long gone, salvaged when the business shut down or moved on to a bigger or better building. The unisex bathroom he discovered needed some sanitizing, and the toilet had no water in the bowl, but the slight 'drip-drip' of the cold and hot faucets meant that there was water in the pipes. The humidity and stifling heat on this level were much worse and he'd have to see if there were any air conditioners to be had. All in all, the second floor was much cleaner and unlike many of the windows downstairs, the windows on this floor were intact.

That brought back a few memories. Evidently, the kids in this neighborhood were terrible at throwing rocks, or didn't have a friend with Chad's arm strength. A wave of melancholy hit him and for the umpteenth time, he wished that he'd been able to get to his best friend before he'd died. The big guy's cool head and insightfulness would have been a welcome counterpoint to Yoruichi's brazenness, Kenpachi's occasional madness and Hiyori's all-around snarky 'bitch-on-wheels' act. Funny, he thought, how badly one could crave sanity when it was in short supply.

Ichigo ran the palm of his hand over his face and cursed again. Chad was dead and the closest thing he had now to the camaraderie he and the half-Mexican had shared was somewhere down the hall, mad as hell at him. Whether it was just about the warehouse or about something more, like the lunatic in his head insinuated he didn't know, but he needed to clear this up fast. Their hideout was going to feel even smaller than it already was if Rukia stayed angry.

He eventually found her standing in what had once been the office of someone important, at the end of the hallway. The south and west windows of the corner room still had two sets of out-of-date vertical blinds installed. Open halfway, they let in bars of sunlight, decorating everything inside with bright yellow stripes that went from floor to ceiling. The only objects casting full shadows were a sullen-looking Rukia and an immense metal desk that no one had seen fit to try to wrestle down the narrow stairs. Ichigo slid sideways into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft 'click'. Rukia didn't turn around, not even when he cleared his throat. Then she caught him off-guard by speaking before he could.

"Fine. You win. Go ahead and tell me how much you hate it."

"That wasn't…"

She went on as if she hadn't heard him, lividly biting off each word.

"I know it's not great, but if you think you can do _better_ , then get out there tonight and look for another hideout, instead of sleeping!"

Ichigo sensed that things were about to fall off a cliff into a pit and took a few steps forward, holding his hands with his palms up and out in appeasement.

"Listen, I thought about it and…"

"And what? You walked into the storage area and shot it down on first glance! You didn't even give it a chance before you started picking it apart, Mr. High and Mighty!"

Rukia whirled around and Ichigo got a good look at her face, her bright pink cheeks, and at how much fury had built up in her dark blue eyes, once she'd brushed her sweat-dampened bangs out of the way. He had just enough time to think _'_ _I_ _'_ _m a dead man,_ _'_ before she tore into him.

"Do you know how _hard_ it is to find a spot like this? A place we can train AND live, if we're careful? Did you give any thought to how _vulnerable_ we are in this city? Yoruichi can change her looks, but the rest of us are sitting ducks if a patrol spots us! We still have to deal with those stupid insects too! This place is a _palace_ compared to what I and… Renji…"

She couldn't finish the sentence and Ichigo tried again.

"Rukia, I took another…"

A few more steps in her direction and he could see moisture brimming along her lower eyelashes. Her hands balled into fists and she went so far as to shake one of them at him. She really hadn't heard him, he realized, just as she really got into chewing him out, her volume increasing by the second.

"I'm sick of your attitude too! It's not just _you_ that lost everything! If we're ever going to get it back, we need to get stronger!"

Before Rukia could continue, and before the tears in her eyes ran down her flushed face, Ichigo reached out and snagged her wrist. Dragging her against him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the way he would have done when one of his little sisters decided to throw a tantrum as children. That put her in a prime position to kick his shins, but bruised legs were preferable to what her fists could do. Instead of attacking his lower body with the toe of her shoe, she went stock-still, and he took advantage of their difference in height to press her head against his chest. Doing so cut off her diatribe and he took advantage of it.

"Cut it out, Rukia. Let a guy say he's sorry, all right?" he muttered. They'd had a chance to stop by a public bath yesterday and her hair still smelled faintly of the lilac-scented shampoo she'd used, which proved temporarily distracting. Ichigo expected her to put an end to it by elbowing him in the ribs or hitting him in the chin with an uppercut for invading her personal space. When none of that happened, he drew back and looked down at her.

"Rukia? Hey, talk to me…"

"How are we ever going to recover what Aizen stole from us if we don't train as hard as we can?" he heard her say, her lips moving against the fabric of his T-shirt. There were a few wet blotches on it too, where it had soaked up the saltwater. "We have to be ready to fight anything, or _anyone_ that he throws at us when he decides he's had enough of letting us roam free."

The fear that the usurper would use the captive Shinigami against the Escapees was always present. They had discussed it many times, but as the years went by and the Seireitei grappled with the Swarm, Ichigo assumed that the hunt for them had been shuffled to the back burner. That didn't mean that he didn't dread a scenario in which Yammy Llargo forced Kuchiki Byakuya to track them down… or worse, sent what was left of Abarai Renji. One of Ichigo's biggest regrets was that he hadn't killed Szayel Apporo Grantz when he'd lost control during that ill-fated rescue mission, even if what Yoruichi had reported was true, that the candy-pink abomination was dancing to his little sister's tune these days. Served the prancing monstrosity right. If he ever got the chance, he'd finish the job of reducing the Espada's mask to dust…

…right after he turned Grimmjow's Jaegerjaquez's guts into violin strings. Ichigo didn't know how to play a musical instrument, but _that_ might prove to be incentive enough to learn.

"I know. Look, you're right," he sighed heavily. "We haven't been able to do much this last winter and I didn't want to have to go crawling to Ishida- _sensei_ unless we had no other choice. I don't want to involve Yuzu in any of this. I don't want her to have to scrounge like we do, for everything. I don't want her to have to constantly look over her shoulder, or make do with sleeping in a place like this…"

Ichigo said the last without really thinking, and then paused as he realized he was right back to square one with Rukia. In response, she tilted her head up to glare at him and it was very hard for him to meet her gaze when his Hollow had shown him what a much different expression on her face might look like.

It was time to backpedal.

"No, I mean… uuuhhh… I mean, it's already hard sharing space with everyone. It's like we're all on top of one another, all the time. Yoruichi and Hiyori… and you… and um… Nel-chan…"

From the way her scowl deepened Ichigo knew he'd said the wrong thing and frantically tried to think of something, anything that would steer his rapidly sinking ship away from the iceberg that Rukia could, literally, drop on his head. The problems with their current arrangement weren't limited to the women, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind and prayed that she would take what he said at face value.

"Kenpachi snores!"

Rukia pulled away just enough to stare up at him in surprise, opening her mouth to say something and then shutting it when he failed to come up with anything else. However, her scowl moderated to a mere frown.

"True," she finally said, some of her irritation evaporating as she disengaged and walked to one of the windows. Her hand gingerly brushed aside one of the vertical plastic slats, bleached white after years of exposure to sunlight and she peered out across the top of the nearest building. "We can hear him in _our_ room. How you and Hachi sleep is beyond me."

Ichigo let out the breath he was holding, relieved that she wasn't going to freeze him solid for a nonexistent crush on someone he already considered 'off limits'. At the same time, he felt oddly bereft at the loss of physical contact. Nel was constantly hugging him, for one reason or another, and yet Rukia's brief embrace left him almost as unnerved as her earlier anger.

Maybe it was because a hug, or indeed, _any_ expression of vulnerability from Rukia was unicorn-rare. He coughed into his hand and used the gesture to recover his composure.

"Badly, if that's what you mean. Why do you think I stole all of those packages of foam earplugs from the last jobsite? They're meant to muffle the sound of a jackhammer…"

"So that was why Yoruichi had to kick you awake?"

"Sort of," he admitted and his left hand moved of its own volition, rubbing the spot on his bicep where the toe of the older Shinigami's boot had caught him three mornings prior. "Tell you what… let's tell them about this place. When Yoruichi gets back, we'll give her a tour, maybe see what she says. She has the final say, after all."

Rukia's posture relaxed and Ichigo could tell it was an acceptable compromise. It wasn't a full-on endorsement of making this their new safe-house, but it wasn't a dismissal either. "She's due in tonight, so we could show it to her as early as tomorrow."

He added a smile to this, and she rolled her eyes, wise to his attempt at appeasement.

"Fine, Ichigo. By the way, it's our turn to cook dinner. What's left of your last paycheck?"

A groan escaped him as she walked past, accompanied by a number that, by the way Rukia wrinkled her nose, was lower than she expected.

"If we add that to my take-home pay for this week, I think we can keep ourselves fed… if we stick to sales," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Ichigo braced himself for a few hours of hauling bags of groceries down the convoluted path to their current hideout and began to put together a checklist of foods that would be both easy to carry and required nothing more than a microwave oven for preparation. Meanwhile, he followed Rukia out of the room and was immediately plunged into seeming darkness. For a second, he feared that his Hollow was going to show him yet another raunchy possibility involving two women that, in real life, would pulverize him for such thoughts.

The smaller hand that closed around his wrist forced a yelp out of him, but kept him from stumbling.

"Hey, steady there, Ichigo! Are you sure you're okay?"

His eyes, used to the bright sunlight in the corner room, hadn't adjusted quickly enough to the gloom in the hallway. Rukia's grip on him tightened, until he covered it with his larger one.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. Gimme a moment. If we do end up here, we're going to need some new light bulbs. How much does the convenience store where you work charge for them?"

Ichigo heard her shift from one foot to the other, and then a low snort that might have been a stifled laugh.

"Too much, if you ask me, but put that on the 'maybe' shopping list, will you?"

Compared to the frosty disdain or the exasperation she'd shown earlier, he'd gladly take the half-smile he saw on her face.

"Sure thing. Let's see what we can scavenge for supper. Yoruichi will likely be famished and you know how much she can put away."

Rukia had enough grace to wince at the shared memory of stacks of dirty bowls piled to the ceiling of Urahara's _shoten_ , a sign that the ravenous woman had decimated his pantry.

"Hmph." The little Shinigami struck one fist against the open palm of her other hand. "Three bags of rice then. Let's see how long we can make it last."

Then her voice lowered to its normal, cautious cadence and she wrapped one arm around her torso.

"I hope she has some good news for us."

They retraced their steps, the metal staircase vibrating beneath their feet and Ichigo silently thanked the powers-that-be for allowing him to make it to the bottom floor without further mishap. He also prayed, for all their sakes that some sympathetic force would grant Rukia's wish and ensure that she never, _ever_ found out about the cause of his lost footing. The last thing he wanted to do was make whatever weird tension that existed between the petite menace and the overly-demonstrative Arrancar any worse. The idea of _Sode No Shirayuki_ 's blade buried hilt-deep in his gut was enough to think that throwing himself off of the warehouse's roof would be a nobler, easier death.

* * *

Six hours later, the possible safe-house was the last thing on his, Rukia's or anyone's mind. In fact, Ichigo felt as if the ceiling and all the floors above him had collapsed on his head, pinning him in place to make certain that there would be absolutely no escape from a wholly unexpected predicament.

The yellowish overhead light in the basement room that served as the Escapee's communal living quarters cast a strange sickly glow over the proceedings. It wasn't exactly and the gang of eight misfits camped out in it made it feel smaller.

Especially when Rukia flung her arms around Nel's shoulders and began sobbing into the taller woman's shoulder.

"Thank you, Nel-chan! Thank you so much! T…thank you… you're the only o...one…"

The rest dissolved into what Ichigo could only describe as a veritable torrent of relieved tears, lost amongst the sounds of grief held too long in check, mixed with wild new hope. His own eyes were hardly dry, though unlike Rukia, his nose wasn't running… yet. Part of him was still processing the information Yoruichi had brought back with her and it still felt unreal.

Supposedly, Abarai Renji, that loud-mouthed, tattooed, too-tall oaf, was back to his old self. Orihime had put the red-headed idiot and his shattered Zanpakuto to rights, against all odds. Yoruichi's eyes had practically gleamed with satisfaction as she'd relayed the story. Better yet, in Ichigo's opinion, was that Karin had voluntarily divulged the news to the ex-Taichou. To him, it was proof that his little sister wasn't too far under Grimmjow's corrupting influence, and that she finally understood how precarious her situation really was.

Yoruichi's immediate exploitation of both Renji's and his sister's vulnerable positions was less welcome, though understandable. However, the plan she'd cooked up on her way 'home' make him think she'd lost her mind somewhere in the Dangai. Nel looked equally uneasy about it, though there was a matching amount of resolve in her eyes as well.

"So, tell me Hachigen, do you think you can pull this off, in such a short amount of time?" their leader asked as she toyed with a stray grain of rice in the bottom of her bowl of curry.

The answer, if one could call the long, low 'hmmmmm' to his left, sounded iffy. The rumbling, menacing chuckle to his right was no better. Worse, the large palm pressing against the top of Ichigo's head bore down on him with increased force. When he squirmed, it only got worse.

"Yer goin' nowhere, moron. Eyes straight ahead, if ya know what's good for ya!"

Ichigo snarled at the giant, but knew better than to get into it now. If he tried to follow his first urge, which was to mount an immediate rescue of Abarai, the berserker would do one of two things: make Ushōda Hachigen sit on him until he asphyxiated, or unleash Yachiru on him with a bellyful of candy. Either way, Ichigo was stuck staring at the uncomfortable scene before him with no hope of escape.

" _If_ the Kido shields around the room use the same configuration I put in place all those years ago, I believe I can manage something. It will take me some time and I'll need a much larger working space," the huge Vizard finally answered. "I suppose it would be too much to ask if you…"

Yoruichi held up one hand, palm forward, and then used that same hand to fish around in her _haori_ for something. Finding it, she tossed a small object to Hachi, who caught it in mid-air. It appeared to be organic, because Ichigo swore he saw a tiny tentacle waving in the Vizard's open palm. For the umpteenth time, he reflected on just how big the differences between tech in the Seireitei and Living World really were… and now messed up the former appeared.

"It took a lot of sneaking around the former 12th Division, but I finally got my paws on this. You can extract the information you need on that particular level's security measures. From what I could tell, with my understanding of Kido barriers, it's nothing I haven't see you put together every time we need to place camouflage on a new base."

"Hachi-kun'll do whatever it is you need! I can vouch for his skills in that department, but do ya think Pineapple-head is gonna play along?" Sarugaki Hiyori chimed in, leaning against the room's closed and bolted door. The skepticism in her voice was thick enough to cut. "He's like Kurosaki here… too honest for his own good to be a decent spy. This all depends on whether he can keep Nel-chan's Claim a secret."

"We'll have to trust Karin-chan to explain things to him…" Yoruichi replied, appearing unconcerned. Then she looked pointedly at the two women kneeling in the middle of the little conference, one still murmuring 'thank you' into the first woman's blouse. "… or Nel-chan can convince him. Think you can do that? He's got a pretty thick skull."

Nel flushed in embarrassment and with some difficulty, freed one of her arms from Rukia's fierce, teary embrace. She stroked the Shinigami's dark hair, attempting to soothe her. Watching the two did _not_ help Ichigo, as the whole tableau brought back every tawdry image his Hollow had dumped on him that afternoon. To add insult to injury, his treacherous brain began to supply him with a host of new, depraved scenes that involved a naked Nelliel, an equally naked Rukia and the treasonous erection barely concealed by the folds of his T-shirt.

"I… well, I… I'll do my best," Nel stammered and made an uncomfortable noise as Rukia threw away all decorum and planted a kiss on the former Third's cheek. There was no sign of the icy irritation she'd displayed towards the Arrancar in the past few months. Instead, it was as if spring snowmelt had arrived early. Though she made a face at first, Nel eventually gave in and returned the hug. At that moment a lecherous wolf whistle, audible only to a mortified Ichigo, grated along every nerve in his body.

 ** _Ain_ _'_ _t that an inspirin_ _'_ _sight, King? Too much clothing tho_ _…_**

The young man slouched forward, tucking his chin down and pulling his knees to his chest. With luck, the others would assume he was merely relieved, rather than trying to enter Jinzen in order to tear his meddlesome, noxious Hollow a shiny new hole.


End file.
